I Have Never Been a High-Class Hooker Before
by Seillean
Summary: What happens when Washington City-based Doctor Maura Isles is sent on a secret mission to entrap an infamous Wild West outlaw? Rated T for now but may increase in future.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi all!**

 **Well, it's been a long time between fanfics and Rizzles is a new genre for me. Some of you that are subscribed to my alerts will remember me from my Lost Girl stories. I would like to apologise profusely to my long-suffering readers, your unwavering support has been absolutely wonderful but unfortunately for personal reasons I won't be continuing my existing LG fanfics. Still, I hope you can join me on my new adventures.**

 **I've been going back to reading a lot of the amazing Rizzles stories out there again, there really are some marvellous writers on here and I know there are already a few extremely good historical/Wild West set pieces to choose from but I have been watching a lot of Westerns lately and I do like it as a Jane/Maura setting, it just seems to suit them.**

 **So, without further ado, ready…? *Diana Prince-style spectacles in place…fingers primed and ready…***

 **DISCLAIMER; No Rizzoli and Isles characters will be harmed in the writing of this fic…they also sadly don't belong to me. If they did, they'd be living the high life in Paris for the rest of their days together. In a beautiful apartment. On the Seine. With one King-sized bed. Living on Champagne, Caviar & hot dogs for Jane.**

" **I Have Never Been a High-Class Hooker Before…"**

 **Chapter One**

Cavanaugh blinked at the brazen choice of words that had just sprung forth from the lips of the normally refined and genteel Doctor Maura Isles. Even by the year 1885 in which we lay our tale, the term 'hooker' by way of describing a certain class of woman was hardly common parlance among the sophisticate class of which ladies like Maura were a part.

 _Mind you,_ he reminded himself a little ruefully, _ladies like Maura Isle are hardly commonplace themselves and she, perhaps still yet an oddity in of herself, even amongst this new regiment of modern women streaming forth from the new schools popping up all across America such as the Women's Medical College of Pennsylvania from which I had personally plucked her myself a little over a year ago._

It wasn't that he didn't approve of educated women as such. He just hadn't had any use for one before.

Fifteen months prior, the Winter of 1883 had been a harsh one and the number of impoverished souls who had perished within the burgeoning City of Washington in the sub-freezing temperatures had been mounting swiftly. The years following the Civil War had had brought a sense of enlightenment, a culture where learning and invention both excellent and eccentric could thrive. With it came a small crack in the previously shutter window of education for ladies who could afford it and a greater sensitivity to the value of human life.

As the bodies began to pile up in the city morgue with this sudden inconvenient requirement for each one to be processed with care rather than simply slinging them all onto a wagon and dumping them into a convenient pit outside the city boundaries it was decided by the local government to find one of these new female medical students to do the job.

At first, it was seen as a rather grubby task for a woman's delicate sensibilities but if nothing else, it was relatively harmless work that would free up the male town doctors for other more important affairs but certainly if any of these so-called _ladies_ were put off from a life in the tough world of 19th century medicine then all power to the good.

But when Sean Cavanaugh took the day-long railroad trip to Pennsylvania to meet some girl on the insistence of his acquaintance, the venerable Doctor Rachel Bodley, it was safe to say that he was not expecting the blonde whirlwind that was about to whisk her way into not only his hard-won professional regard but in his own quiet fatherly affections.

He had met Bodley years prior when he attended a lecture given by her on the subject of Chemistry & Toxicology of which, it was widely agreed, she was a leading authority. For a while, Cavanaugh had taken a personal interest in the idea that Toxicology could benefit his investigations of behalf of the Department of Justice. He just couldn't quite figure out the link but the parallels between scientific hypothesis and investigative theory were just too coincidental. The more he dug, the more he became fascinated by the idea that advances in science could be used to great effect when assessing guilt and bringing criminals conclusively to justice. All too many times during his long career in the military and subsequently law enforcement he had not been entirely convinced of his own case against men he had sent to the noose. He wanted to be _better._ It was that force which drove him. Which led him, ultimately, to Maura Isles.

Maura was a gifted student who had already been working directly under the auspices of Dean Bodley for quite some while by the time Sean Cavanaugh stepped into the grand old dame's office. Not only was she the highest rated student in her class but she was brilliant and Rachel Bodley knew brilliance. So much so that she had hoped to make Maura her protégé, to continue the research that she was fast becoming too old to complete but when Sean had presented her with an opportunity for one of her brightest students, she could not in all conscience hold her back.

On the surface, the appointment to the brand-new post of _City Medical Examiner_ had been exactly what the town officials had intended. A grizzly job that would once and for all prove that no delicate slip of a girl belonged in medicine.

Unbeknownst to Maura, this was a silent audition as it were. The wily detective watched carefully how the surprisingly diligent young woman went about applying the knowledge she had gained under Doctor Bodley with care to her charges, using the largely misunderstood methods of toxicology and chemistry to discover facts about the individuals; not only specific causes of death but about their living conditions and to some limited extent their backgrounds.

In time he had informed Maura of his true intentions; finding a partner who could bring his ideas to fruition. At first, as flattered as Maura was, she had protested. She had found a fulfilment in being able to speak for the dead that her peers found downright macabre. _Queen of the Dead_ they called her and this grim fascination had certainly won her no friends but then that was nothing new.

Ever since she had been a child whispers about her peculiar ways had echoed long down school corridors as she had passed by. At least at the medical college she had lived for a time among kindred souls who, while they may not have exactly been warm had at least been kind and shown her a professional courtesy that somehow meant more than overtures of friendship.

The townspeople of Washington City could definitely be as cutting as her childhood bullies but at least working with Mr. Cavanaugh felt safe. She had a place and no one dared speak out against her when she was by his side. It was clear that the detective placed great store by what this uppity female said and that was enough.

Fortunately for her sake, she did not have to give up her work in the morgue entirely for no one in the office could know Doctor Isles' true role within the department, nor how involved she became in the DOJ's investigations. Evidence based on the testimony of a woman could make any case shaky; to know that there was one behind the scenes, pulling the strings using a science that some folk would see little better than witchcraft and hokum was unthinkable. So, her days were spent in her beloved ice box mixing test-tubes in secret research.

Needless to say then, her surprise and closeted joy when Cavanaugh had asked her to take part in a secret sting operation that would see her posing as a showgirl in the unruly _Wild West._

Glancing at him she could see the reticence in his eyes, set in a face that appeared to have aged significantly in the ten minutes or so since he had invited her into his office.

"I really don't like this myself Doctor Isles. If you don't want to go just say the world and the whole thing's off."

She eyed him calculatingly for a moment, her bright hazel gaze assessing him keenly, studying the frown lines permanently etched into the older man's brow.

"If you do not want me to go then why did you ask me then Sir?"

She really was not the impertinent sort but Cavanaugh seemed to seemed to sense that the young woman was deriving some level of amusement from his unease. He sighed, abruptly turning around to face the window that looked out on the green fields that eventually led to the ever-expanding White House, rubbing a palm roughly over his thinning head of close-clipped hair;

"Because I really don't have a choice. Our target will spot one of my men right off that bat or if she doesn't she'll soon smell a rat and our guy'll wind up on the bad end of a bullet. I need a woman to go undercover and you're the only one in the department. Off the books of course" he turned back to face her, offering her a wry smile.

"Of course," she readily agreed, matching his with a grin of her own.

"Hell," he should his head, "she could rat out a girl just as easily and we all know you're not exactly a poker face but you can stretch the truth, right?"

Maura gulped. In her excitement at this unprecedented assignment she had quite forgotten that to go under cover was essentially to live a lie and who knew how long she'd be out there?

"Well I suppose that if I was living the lie…" she began, desperately trying to string together a theory, "then would it really be a lie? Paradoxically speaking I wouldn't actually be telling a lie if I am actually doing as I claim…"

He held up his hand to stop her going any further with that train of thought. More than once in the early days of their partnership he had found himself caught up in one of her scientific tangents;

"Alright Doctor, you got the job but this is a track and report mission only, understand? You'll have one of my guys tailing you the whole time. Whatever you hear, you pass it to him. He'll get that information back to me through secret channels. Under no circumstance are you to come in direct contact with the target. Got it? Oh and I know you will need to make your cover as real as possible but I am not expecting you to prostitute yourself to the hooligans of the West." He smiled, knowing this last piece of instruction was not warranted but it served to lighten the atmosphere which had grown slightly heavy as the gravity of the situation began to make itself felt in Maura's consciousness.

"But sir, I have never been a high-class hooker before!" she grinned gamely and the sheer sauciness with which the line was delivered made the old man blush. _Maybe she can just about pull this off_ he thought quietly to himself.

"Alright, you got the job kid" he said, playing off the sudden unexpected heat his assistant had brought to the room. After all, Doctor Isles, for all her unconventional ways did still possess a number of certain attractive _attributes_ that even her greatest critics couldn't help but privately admire in the passing.

Statuesque with long waves that shimmered gold under a hot Summer sun on the rare days she let it down from its customary working bun, voluptuous curves that any woman would envy and a seemingly effortless grace which belied her often poor treatment by her peers leaving them in shame Maura would have made a fine match for any man who could bring himself to give her intellect free reign. Unfortunately, even in these so-called 'civilised' times that man seemed yet to be created. But the man who could nurture rather than deride her unique abilities didn't have to make his appearance for a while, if ever. Maura had a career and that was more precious than any old common marriage.

"Sir? May I ask who exactly _is_ the target?"

Cavanaugh grimaced for a split second before shifting his face into a well-practiced mask of professional composure;

"Ever heard of an outlaw named Jane Rizzoli?"

 **DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUUUN!**

 **C'mon, you** _ **knew**_ **that's where I was going to leave you!**

 **So…should I continue?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow! I am honestly so thrilled to bits with the early reception my first chapter has been getting. Thanks so much to my lovely new readers for your reviews and those hitting the Follow/Favourite buttons already. Thought in the interests of fairness I had better get this next chapter out quick! Also, apologies in advance for any historical inaccuracies- this Scottish girl is doing her best to research everything properly but there might be the odd wee mistake in which case feel free to drop me a wee line to correct me.**

 **Onwards?**

 **Disclaimer; see Chapter One**

 **Chapter Two**

"I told ya before old man and I ain't changin' my mind. Answer's still no!" she grunted as she stomped testily towards the barn.

"Aww, c'mon Jane…" Vince Korsak threw clenched fists down by his sides in sheer frustration.

"Look Korsak, I can't believe you of all folks would go askin' me this. Y'know I got into a good place here an' I'm fixin' to stay" she retorted, swiftly turning on her heel, brandishing a pitchfork she had grabbed from a nearby haystack, hefting the solid wooden pole easily in one hand.

Tall and wiry with a Colt Peacemaker slung on each hip, the weight of which she had always found comforting as they slapped tightly against her thighs with every step, Jane Rizzoli cut a fine if not particularly imposing figure at first glance. A long torrent of dark curls that had known neither a hair tie nor barely the stroke of a brush over the last thirty years streamed down her upper back like a great black waterfall giving hint of the free spirit that lay beneath the contained movement with which she went about her tasks in the corral. Jane belonged in open country with the wind whipping through her hair and the sound of pounding hooves galloping beneath her.

Stubbornly she turned her back to her oldest friend and stabbed her pitchfork into the nearest bail of hay before shuffling with the heavy burden stuck out in front of her to a trio of horses that waited patiently under a high Arizona sun, their noses hovering expectantly over a ramshackle wooden feeder.

"I came back here 'cause of you and I got no regrets. You can't ask this of me Korsak. You just can't" she finished sadly, wiping at the sweat trickling down her brow with an already equally sweaty arm, kicking at the dust under her boots, mesmerised momentarily by the patterns and shapes that could be found within a cloud of dust.

Glancing around the corral and the small homestead that sat just a short ways behind with the vast orange desert stretching out beyond looking as though it had just dropped out of the sky, not looking any the better for the fall with its greying, dilapidated wooden boards crumbling from the porch ceiling you would never have believed that Jane Rizzoli, the woman now taking such care to bring this shack back to life and who willingly volunteered to help at her mother's boarding house most evenings had once been Arizona's most infamous outlaw.

When she was just 21 years old a hot-headed and eager-for-adventure Jane had promptly presented herself at Fort MacDowell. With her brooding Italian good looks a reluctant Commander Martinez had to admit that she would be make a passable 'half-breed' and Jane soon found herself recruited as an army scout, sent far from home in the rapidly growing mining town of Cave Creek where she had moved to with her younger brothers the previous year and over the border into Nevada to infiltrate a group of disparate Bannock Tribespeople intent on connecting with their Bannock and Shoshone brethren up in Idaho.

Jane managed to ingratiate herself disguised as a runaway who yearned to re-join her mother's people. At first the young woman had settled on performing her duty to her country, prepared to give her life if necessary in service. After all, from everything she understood up until that point in her life, the Indians were savages, ungrateful for the tide of proper God-fearing white civilisation that was rapidly sweeping across the West.

In truth, the longer Jane spent with the tribe who had eventually welcomed her despite some initial suspicion, she began to wonder who the real barbarians were. Chief Shadow Wolf himself seemed to take a special interest in her, teaching her the ways of the land. She showed an aptitude for hunting and at times an unbridled aggression, a wildness he had only seen before in the white stallions that roamed freely across the desert plains. Reigning her in had taken patience and care but hardly suited to basket-weaving, cooking and other such feminine work, under his wise counsel, she became a skilled warrior with a bow & arrow.

Often, he wondered if this barely contained rage was something to do with the twin scars that he had seen decorating her hands which could only be the result of an act of extreme violence, but this was not his answer to seek.

Shadow Wolf's wife taught Jane the proper way to bathe which was far more involved than just being dunked into the nearest stream or pond for a quick scrub up on a Sunday. The cool, crystal clear waters of the Western creeks were to be shown the utmost reverence and thanks given to ward off the evil Water Baby spirits who would gladly carry off an unworthy soul to a watery grave.

Jane wasn't sure about water spirits but through the ceremonies that became part of everyday life she _did_ grow to respect the land, learned how important it was to always give back what one took. Her blind ignorance of such rituals was not only forgiven but accepted as part of one who lost her way but had chosen to return to the path of her ancestors.

But as the months passed by Jane knew the moment was fast approaching when the US Government would expect her to fulfil her vow. Being a lowly scout, she hadn't been privy to the army's strategic overview but while she may have been young she was not stupid. She knew she hadn't been sent to the tribe on a joy-ride. She also knew that while she had been heading steadily East towards Idaho, Martinez had taken his unit the longer route North and that a fellow agent would be waiting to meet her the second she reached her final destination, looking for intelligence…weak spots, anything that might be of use to the military. Something big had to be coming their way. This was the way the military worked.

Her own father had been a sergeant in the cavalry many years before. Jane had still been a child the day her mother had been forced to witness Frank Rizzoli's body carted home on the back of a wagon along with several others, killed after being sent to help subjugate the proudly defiant Navajo.

At the time a young and impressionable Jane had believed her father's course just and true but when the time finally came for her to follow in his footsteps she couldn't do it. In two months living in this culture so different to her own her young eyes had been opened, her lifelong beliefs the result of a closeted upbringing challenged to their very core.

Shadow Wolf was furious at first when Jane told him the truth of why she had really come to the tribe. On a visit to his teepee one evening when the guilt became too much for her to bear any longer she came clean, telling him where she thought Martinez was planning on joining up with Brigadier Howard's forces somewhere around Snake River- the same place Shadow Wolf had hoped to absorb his tribe into Chief Buffalo Horn's larger mixed Bannock/Shoshone settlement and give his people a permanent home once and for all.

Shadow Wolf listened carefully, acknowledging that it had been brave for the young woman to come to him with this knowledge. In truth, had he ever produced a daughter he hoped she would have been as spirited as Jane but if she could break a sacred oath to her own people so willingly, how could he trust that she would not do the same with others who were not of her birth?

In short, she was given supplies to last the week, a most overly generous concession in the eyes of many and cast from the encampment. She had begged and pleaded with him to allow her to stay but though it broke his heart to do so, for the sake of his own kin he could not stand to have a known traitor in his own house. That was the way tribal law worked and to break it now in favour of a child would be to show his weakness.

She waited in the brush overnight until the Bannock encampment broke at sunrise the following morning. For days she followed them in secrecy, hiding in caves and camping beneath the stars with no fire to warm her lest the smoke be spotted by the Indian scouts who she knew would be keeping watch through the night. She managed to keep pace with them all the way to Snake River.

History will tell you that the two short battles that followed ended in a massacre. Chief Buffalo Horn himself was killed in action fighting for his people. What history has kept a secret unto herself until now was that a certain Jane Rizzoli came to fight by the side of her adoptive family. The closest man she had had to a father since the loss of one she could hardly remember from childhood glimpsed her across a battlefield, not in the blue and gold of the American Infantry but in the bright colours of some Shoshone war paint she had _liberated_ from a nearby armoury tent.

In the year that followed, though she escaped persecution Jane witnessed the humiliating degradation of a people she had come to love as much as her own by the very race of fellow human beings that had borne her. Proud Chief Shadow Wolf lived just long enough to see his kin fallen, crumpled in squalid conquest then worse still the subsequent in-fighting between Bannock & Shoshone brothers, both somehow blaming each other for the atrocities.

When she returned to Arizona, the rage that Jane had carefully tempered and stowed away was given full reign to breathe once more. She sought vengeance on the world and everyone in it, the driving force for which eventually became a mystery even unto herself. She was just so damned angry. The Army, supposedly the right and proper force for good in this still developing new land had taken away her father, brutally savaged a whole race of good, honest people before her very eyes and provided her with her very own monster that still continued to haunt her dreams. A surgeon whose mark would burn her for the rest of her natural born days. The only justice to be found in this world now was the one she would create for herself. Already a branded traitor, she would turn outlaw.

She sighed heavily, her breath coming out in a great puff of air that disturbed a few stray flakes of hay in the lack of any breeze as she kept her eyes turned away from the very man who had saved her from a path of death and violence.

"Y'know I can only refuse you so many times old man. What you did for me Vince…" she trailed off, swallowing hard, taking a moment to compose her thoughts, "what do you need me to do?"

Korask walked steadily towards her, gently tilting Jane's face up to meet his compassionate gaze. He knew how much he was asking of her;

"I need you to turn the clock back Jane. I need you to become what you once were. I need to you turn outlaw."

 **Getting interesting? Maybe? Remember to hit those buttons or drop me a line if you feel like it**

 **Take care all!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi guys!**

 **Thank you all again for your lovely reviews and Follows/Favourites and a very warm welcome to my new readers. I should clear up that yes, the conversation taking place between Korsak and Jane took place around about the same time as the first chapter- apologies for any confusion, I should have made that clear. Also, I know that in the final series we learned that Maura really cannot carry a tune in a bucket but in this story she can sing the birds out of the trees!**

 **Onwards and…Westwards!**

 **Disclaimer; see Chapter One.**

 **Chapter Three**

Maura turned to gaze avidly out of the train carriage window on overhearing the lady in the next seat pointing enthusiastically to her son the dark mass of granite that was Black Mountain rising majestically towards the sky as it slipped gracefully into view. Finally, they had reached Maricopa County and the doctor who had travelled all the way from the City of Washington would soon arrive at Cave Creek, the endpoint of what had been a horrendously long journey. A sudden whoosh of nerves jangled against a dash of thrilled excitement. Whatever the so-called _Wild_ West brought her it was sure to be an adventure, of that the intrepid doctor was certain.

She thought of all the pictures she had seen of the West in the past via newspapers or paintings and the variety of colourful characters that lived therein; photographs of gunslingers and somewhat less-than-virtuous-looking women set against wide, rugged landscapes. Up until this point she had spent days travelling through the pretty grasslands of the prairies where the rapidly dwindling herds of buffalo stubbornly continued to roam but absolutely nothing could have prepared her for the sheer vastness of Arizona's desert plains and its unique _atmosphere_. Even tucked away in the confines of the carriage there permeated a rather distinctive dry air that dried her throat and Maura wished she had a glass of water to hand. By contrast, she blinked away at the sting of watering eyes and for the first time in her life prim and proper Maura Isles found herself fighting the decidedly unladylike urge to spit, the grit that had somehow wormed its way between her teeth unpleasant and sour tasting.

Her eyes flickered momentarily to the gentleman sitting by himself on the opposite side of the carriage. She smiled politely but did not particularly care for the slightly lecherous quality of his stare, she found it decidedly unnerving. He had appeared when the train had split at Mesa, where only a couple of coaches would continue on to Tuscon with the majority of passengers opting to disembark at Phoenix, the ever-advancing township that had seen a massive spurt growth over the previous twenty years which was also where Maura was to meet her contact, about whom she knew nothing but his name; a Mister Barold Frost. She hoped to god that the man leering at her now was not the man she was expected to work with for however long this operation would take. While Maura was not often given to flights of fancy as a general rule, something about him was making her skin crawl and it wasn't just the scar that slashed his face from eyebrow to opposite jaw either.

Shifting her gaze back to the passing scenery she suddenly became aware of her own vulnerability. The size of the mountains and canyons dotting the horizon coupled with endless stretches of ochre tinted sand made one feel so small and insignificant in a way she had never experienced before in her city life. A lance of fear shot through her at the thought of the mission she was about to undertake. The men and women who lived in this place had to be tough by necessity, life was harsh here, brutal even. It would be easy to become intimidated. She thought back over the instructions she had been left by Cavanaugh for what felt the hundredth time;

 _Your target is the outlaw Jane Rizzoli, classified; high-risk, unpredictable, violent. We believe she is living under an alias in her old area, probably being protected by close-knit associates. You will position yourself in_ _ **The Dirty Bandit**_ _, this is where you are most likely to cross paths, but this is a track and report mission only Doctor Isles- you are under no circumstances whatsoever to come in direct contact with the target._

Thankfully, the train rolled into Phoenix before she could talk herself into turning right around and heading back to Washington like a sensible woman, tail tucked firmly between her legs. So really, it was just as well that Maura Isles was not your usual kind of woman. With a stoic force of will she hoisted herself up from the bench that she only now realised had grown uncomfortable, her body protesting at the stiffness that had settled in over several days of rocketing along the great American railroads in distinctly cramped confines. The next time the government wanted her to go chasing notorious criminals across the length of the country she would insist that they at least pay for her to have a private carriage!

Removing her luggage with the assistance of a very bedraggled-looking porter Maura searched the platform anxiously. Mr. Frost was supposed to be meeting her with a carriage to take her on to Cave Creek, her long pink skirts rustling obscenely about her ankles making her stand out among the crowd. It hadn't struck her until now just how different the styles of dress were among Western women. All around her other women bustled by in their much lighter, freer flowing dresses, all just as dust-ridden as a rancher's boots and not one of them carrying a parasol despite the heat of the late afternoon sun. She supposed that if she were to pass herself off as a native showgirl then she'd have to start dressing herself a little differently.

She became aware out the corner of her eye that the scarred man had propped himself up against the wall of the station house and was staring at her with open fascination. A deep sinking feeling settled within the pit of her stomach, fearing that he might actually be her government contact but just as she was contemplating whether or not it was a wise idea to approach him she was thoroughly relieved when another, younger man out of puff came barrelling up to her;

"Doctor Isles?" he asked in a smooth voice, wiping a sweaty brow with his sleeve before offering his other hand to shake, "sorry I'm late- broke a wheel on the road" he continued. "Uh, Doc? It is Doctor Isles, right?" he stopped uncertainly when she merely continued to stare at him, her jaw dropped agoggled. "I figure I'm not exactly what you were expecting, huh?" he said, finding a sudden abashed interest in his boots.

"Dyspnea" Maura uttered suddenly, "you're out of breath," she clarified, "you should sit down before the lack of oxygen makes you pass out" she said, raising a finger.

"Oh! Uh, nah, I'm alright Doc," he said, not really sure what to make of the woman standing before him in her immaculate attire. He'd never seen anything so pristine, so… _white._ He lived in a world of dust and mud where even the prettiest girl came caked in a layer of grime. Doctor Isles was immaculate. "Sorry, I just thought maybe you were uh, well…" he trailed off, not quite sure how to ask this lady the question he wanted to ask.

"Oh no Mr. Frost! In fact, I am so very relieved!" she cried, unleashing a full force grin of pearly white teeth, the like of which Frost had never seen before. "I thought…" she glanced back to where the scarred man had been lurking but must have disappeared at Frost's arrival, "well never mind what I thought. I'm pleased to meet you Mr. Frost." She finished, taking the man's hand with delicate fingers.

At first Frost was a little confused as to what to with the woman's tiny grip on his hand but the genuine warmth in her smile made him think that somehow, she really wouldn't care at his less-than-couth manner.

"Uh, please Ma'am, just Frost is fine, I ain't no Mister except to my momma when she ain't too pleased with me!" he chuckled, returning her smile with one of his own albeit a little self-consciously. "Here, let me take your things" he said, scooping up Maura's suitcases easily under what she dispassionately asserted were a pair of nicely rounded Biceps Brachii. Helping her up onto the front seat of the wagon at the doctor's own insistence, eager to feel the breeze through her hair after the stuffiness of the train, he offered her a spare red spotted neckerchief to protect her nose and mouth from the grit floating through the air.

After a while of surprisingly comfortable silence Frost felt the need to voice something that had been bothering him ever since he'd heard about the unusual agent his superiors were sending him;

"If you don't mind me saying so Doc, I reckon you must either be somethin' brave or just plain ol' plum crazy to be comin' out here after Jane Rizzoli."

Maura wasn't quite certain what to make of Frost's assessment, but neither was she ready to disagree just yet;

"What do you know about Jane?"

Frost gave a short shrug;

"Nothin' much. No one really does. We _think_ she lives up at Cave Creek but…"

"You think?" Maura queried, "you don't know?"

Frost shrugged again;

"There's a girl lives in Cave Creek, supposedly a niece of Angela Rizzoli by the name of Lucia Venuto. We believe that could be Jane Rizzoli's alias, but the natives are pretty tight-lipped."

Maura furrowed her brow;

"But why would the locals tolerate having such a dangerous outlaw in their neighbourhood? Surely if they all stood up together she could be arrested?"

"Everyone loves Mama Rizzoli and truth is, when Jane and her brothers first moved to Cave Creek the land was only just being settled around the mines and Jane was only nineteen years old. Lot's changed since then. Most of the miners have moved on and other folks bought the plots and built a town. Jane lived there for just a year before she went off and joined the army as a scout, so no one around really knows what Jane looked like. So then when Mama Rizzoli's niece comes to town to help out at her aunt's inn and buys up a property on the outskirts o' town no one pays any mind. Anyone that does know Jane ain't keen on sayin' so. Either 'cause they're afraid of what she'll do to 'em or 'cause they're loyal."

Maura took a few moments to absorb all this new information, trying to make sense of this character slowly emerging from the mists of her imagination.

"How long will it take us to reach Cave Creek?" she asked finally when the wheels of her mind slowed to a sensible pace.

"We ain't goin' to Cave Creek Doc" said Frost easily, "we're going to Carefree, Cave Creek's sister town."

"Oh" was Maura's only reply.

Another silence descended for a time, the steady clip-clop of the horses pulling the wagon and the rumble of wheels obnoxiously loud in an otherwise silent landscape.

"Can you sing?"

"Can I what?" asked Maura, surprised at the sudden change of subject. Frost grinned under the kerchief covering half his face but his passenger could still make out the suspicious crinkling around the corners of his eyes.

"Y'know, sing? Dance? Crowe, the dude who owns _The Dirty Bandit_ 's lookin' for a new floorshow. Needs a girl that can sing or dance. It'd be the perfect cover" he clarified after Maura's continued blank look.

"Well, I thought my cover story had all been arranged?" replied Maura, a sensation of panic rising thick and fast in her chest.

"Nah, can't. Crowe's a known associate of Jane Rizzoli's. We try and plant you in there Rizzoli gets tipped off that somethin's up. But don't worry, you're gonna do great" he finished cheerily although more felt less and less reassured.

"One last question Mr…uh, Frost, if I may?" At Frost's nod she continued, not quite sure if she really wanted to know the answer; "why is it so imperative that I place myself in a house of ill repute?"

Maura started at the abrupt bark of laughter the man let out.

"Jane likes the girls" he chuckled and Maura stared at the open country, her eyes the picture of alarm.

XXXXX

As night fell in Cave Creek Angela Rizzoli watched her daughter turn a whiskey tumbler between her fingers, her boot-clad feet propped up on an ancient, threadbare footstool in front of a roaring fire, the thick amber liquid leaving a viscous trail around the middle of the glass and Jane stared bewitched with the trails she created.

"I know what you're thinking Janie" she said quietly.

It was a quiet night in the boarding house, most of the residents already long retired to their rooms for the evening.

"Do ya Ma?" Jane asked in a quiet rasp, not unkindly.

Angela offered a small quirk to her lip in reply before taking a seat in the armchair opposite the younger woman;

"You've worked so hard, so hard Jane, to get to where you are today. Despite all you've gone through in the past you've managed to carve out a life for yourself here and I'm so proud of you Janie. So proud. You lost your way for a while, I know that, but you came back. And now someone's asking you to give all that up. Everything you've worked for."

Jane took a moment, allowing her mother's words to sink in while considering carefully her reply, a trait she was not exactly known for but had been trying hard to cultivate around her mother lately;

"I still see them sometimes Ma, in my mind…it's still there, still happening, and I can't shut them out. Sometimes I can't hardly think straight for it."

"Janie, I know I can't understand the things you've seen, the things you've done," she swallowed hard, contemplating the things that her daughter had proved herself capable of in the past was something she had always found especially difficult, "but you have a right to try and live your life now as best you can. You've lived in darkness for so long, but you belong in the light with us now Jane. You've done so many good things too and your brother's and I love you so much."

But Jane was already too deep in thought for this conversation, unable to respond much more beyond a detached;

"Thanks Ma."

So Angela stood, intent on finishing her cleaning for the night and heading to bed. Giving a light tap to Jane's knee as she passed by;

"I wish you'd let us help you Janie. Don't get lost again, huh?"

But she knew it was useless. Jane always did what Jane thought was right, whether it was or not. No matter what she had done in the past, whatever crimes she had committed, her heart had been, for the most part, in the right place. Sometimes it needed someone as much lost in the darkness as the world's evils to fight for what was good, even if they, themselves were condemned to eternal fire.

These were the thoughts that kept Jane Rizzoli company as she stared deep into the crackling hearth through the long, cold Arizona night.

 **As always guys, keep pushing those buttons and leaving your thoughts!**

 **Love to all!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Really folks, I'm so overwhelmed by the love that's coming this story's way so as a big thank you to all who are hitting those buttons and passing on their thoughts I wanted to get a nice quick update out there so thank you everyone for your wonderful encouragement!**

 **Disclaimer; see Chapter One**

 **Chapter Four**

Crowe turned out to be as odious as his name suggested. That morning Maura had not so much _enjoyed_ a quiet breakfast at the safehouse Frost had found them for the night, anxious to move on with her mission she discovered herself lacking her normal methodical patience but Frost had insisted that no one would be in the Land of the Living at _The Dirty Bandit_ until at least lunchtime.

 _'And while you're at it, you might wanna think of your undercover name. I've always been kinda partial to Katie Beauclerc myself'_ he'd said over a cup of freshly brewed coffee that Maura had to admit smelled heavenly after a rough night spent on a straw mattress that caused her to itch in several of the most unimaginable places. When she inquired curiously as to the reason for the very specific name choice he had simply shrugged in that mischievous way she had already come to recognise and replied _'I knew a girl once…'_

He had also suggested that she try and mellow her East Coast accent so the other girls at the inn wouldn't think she was too snooty and if she faltered, to cover herself by telling them she'd been born somewhere like France or England before her parents moved them all out West.

And so it was that later that afternoon Katie Beauclerc walked through the swinging saloon doors of _The Dirty Bandit_ and asked for Mr. Crowe. She explained that she had heard he was looking for a new floorshow and offered him her passable singing talents.

 _"So you sing, huh?"_ he asked gruffly, the smack of chewing tobacco between his teeth providing a rather pungent counterpoint to his speech and Maura fought the urge to recoil as he leaned closer to her across the bar. He eyed her in a similar lascivious manner as had the scarred man on the train the previous day, keenly assessing her attributes. Then abruptly he nodded, having apparently settled something within his mind; _'well, hell if they don't pay to hear you sing they'll sure pay to come look at you anyhow. Besides, ain't no one else been askin'. Get your behind back here at sundown and use the back stairs. Girls'll show you your room. We'll talk terms after you've shown me what you can do '_ he said, jabbing his thumb in the general direction of the back of house but his hot, sticky eyes remained fixed well below what was considered polite for a gentleman. Then again, it was clear that Crowe was no gentleman, neither was she too keen on his questionable choice of words.

With that settled she had returned to the safehouse where Frost had already assured her he had some appropriate attire waiting for her.

She wasn't sure exactly what she had been expecting but she was fairly certain that it didn't include the outrageously vivid crimson bustier and black stockings he produced the instant she walked through the door.

"Ta-da!" he exclaimed, brandishing the outfit proudly.

"Frost!" she giggled, half-amused, half-scandalised as she hurriedly turned to shut the door behind her before anyone caught sight of the two of them. She knew she was probably being silly out here where people were exposed to far worse than saucy undergarments on a daily basis but she couldn't help her very Eastern sensibilities.

"What? It's perfect!" he said.

"How on _Earth_ did you get this?" she asked, still a little shocked even as she gingerly stepped towards him to get a closer look at the shiny garments. "Actually," she continued, holding up a halting hand, "I don't think I really want to know the answer to that on greater reflection."

She fingered the satiny red of the corset lightly, assessing its appeal.

"It does appear around my size at least," she admitted reluctantly, "but honestly Frost, I cannot wear this. It's…it's…"

"Something a woman of a certain occupation would wear?" he finished for her with a meaningful tilt to his eyebrow.

"Point taken" she acknowledged ruefully.

"Look, Maura," he said a touch more conciliatory, he could sense her nerves under that bravado of naïve readiness, "you really don't have to go through with this. We always can find another way. Heck, it was brave of you just to come this far but…no one'll blame you if you back out now."

"But that's just it Frost, they will" she said plaintively, "if I go home now I will be proving my peers right. All those men telling me every day that I have no business practicing my craft in a man's world, I'll be proving them all right. I _do_ have to do this or I'll be just another weak woman."

He looked at her long and hard for a moment.

"Maura, you are not weak. Cavanaugh obviously believes in you or he wouldn't have sent you here, right? You got this ma'am" he said with a wink. "I believe you can do this."

She smiled finally, taking the red bustier from his grasp to hold it up against herself, striking an awkward pose;

"It's Katie, remember?"

"Well Katie Beauclerc, I think you're gonna do just fine tonight."

 **XXXXX**

A few hours and many mini-panics later saw Katie Beauclerc warily peeking through the doorway at the top of the outside staircase round the back of _The Dirty Bandit,_ her corset hidden away beneath a long coat that reached almost to her ankles. To the casual passer-by the only things that might have looked a touch daring were the black patent leather heeled shoes with silver buckles that gleamed in the broad moonlight atop sensuous stockings that felt deliciously libidinous against her skin as she moved. It was still early days but this new and unfamiliar sensation for Maura, of masquerading as Katie Beauclerc, a woman of outwardly easy virtue felt remarkably freeing.

Inside were a dozen similarly-clad corseted figures cutting the perfect silhouettes all in the gaudiest mixture of colours Maura had ever seen. It was at once wonderful and terrifying, like a secret world of magic much as she imagined the backstage to a theatre might be and, in a way, she supposed, it was just exactly that. All greasepaint and illusion, nothing as it seemed. Girls with elaborate hairstyles and feathers & flowers sticking out from all manner of strange places bustled past the doorway. Maura manage to observe for a few minutes unnoticed until one woman caught the edge of the door with a hard clunk;

"In or out honey, you're letting a draught in!" she snarled, her eyes narrowed in annoyance, "an' just who the hell are you anyway?" she asked in a high-pitched cry while shifting her hands to her hips and tapping her foot impatiently.

"I-I'm the new singer," Maura stammered, "Katie, Katie Beauclerc" she finished gamely, sticking her hand out which the other girl opted to ignore.

"Third room down the right, the girls in there'll take care of you" she said shortly, jerking her head back towards the far reaches of the corridor, her tight auburn ringlets painstakingly piled high up on the top of her head wafting precariously with the sudden movement.

"Uh, thank you" Maura mumbled and shuffled off down the corridor, the tight bustier cinching her waist making any rapid movement ungainly, thinking to herself that she must look like a great wading bird.

"Uh, excuse me, pretty little warbler!" came a screech from behind her and Maura turned on her heel, almost knocking herself over in the process to find a delicately gloved finger pointing at the still open door. Jaw agape she rustled forward to close the door but by the time she looked up the redheaded goddess was already waltzing off down the hall, her voluptuous hips sashaying in the very embodiment of lust as she went. Maura watched agog. Never in her wildest dreams could she ever be so confident, so… _brazen_!

When she had finally recovered her senses, Maura found the door the redhead had directed her to and poked her head inside, mindful not to get caught malingering again she dodged inside hoping to stay as unobtrusive as possible but a pretty young brunette noticed her entrance. This one, however, sported a broad smile and a ready hand in greeting which Maura accepted warmly.

"Hi there, I'm Peggy, what's your name beautiful?" came the girl's rich, soothing tones.

"M- er- Katie, Katie Beauclerc. How do you do?" Maura stumbled yet again, _it is_ _ **not**_ _a lie,_ she told herself vehemently, feeling the beginnings of a tell-tale itch breaking out across her arms, _while I am here my name_ _ **is**_ _Katie Beauclerc! Come on Maura, pull yourself together!_ "and thank you, you're very sweet" she gushed, suddenly taking note of the other woman's subtle compliment and flushing appropriately.

"Well, I do very well Miss Beauclerc. I guess your Crowe's new singer, glad to have you aboard!" she beamed, her fresh face and golden-brown eyes twinkling in the dim illumination from a dozen or so candles littered about the dressing tables.

"Thank you" said Maura returning Peggy's infectious grin as the dark-haired girl who looked even younger than Maura's twenty-five years showed her where she could store her things and powder her face if she wanted to- _not that she really needed to_ Peggy noted out loud;

"Why Katie, how'd you keep your skin so soft and nice like that? God, you'd think you'd never even seen a day of sunshine in your life!"

Maura couldn't think of an answer quick enough that wouldn't get her into trouble so she simply raised a shoulder modestly and lowered her face, looking abashed instead. Peggy didn't seem to mind, opting to take _Katie_ for the shy type.

One by one the other girls gradually introduced themselves politely, taking note of Maura's various attributes with feminine appreciation but neither did they appear threatened- the new girl looked too timid to start muscling in on their _clientele._

The noise of the dressing room was clamorous with excited chatter while the women swapped gossip and the air became progressively headier with the addition of several layers of perfume. It was getting harder and harder to breathe although admittedly that could have been the corset. Perhaps that was why instead of the slow, skilful extraction of information she had planned for the evening Maura rather imprudently blurted;

"I hear that Jane Rizzoli has been known to frequent this place…" she trailed off, noting the odd expression that crossed Peggy's features at the mention of the name.

 _Well done Maura, that was discreet!_ She inwardly cringed.

"Freq _uent_?" Peggy chuckled, "my, you are a little far from home aren't ya, honey?" she stated matter-of-factly. "Yeah, Jane used to come 'round here, not for a while though. Why you askin' anyway?" she asked curiously.

"Oh, I was just wondering. I've been hearing a lot about her since I got here, I just wondering if she was really as they say. I've never met an, an _outlaw_ before" she covered in a panic although her explanation wasn't exactly a lie either. Peggy's gaze settled on Maura's face shrewdly for long moments as if trying to assess the other woman's sincerity and the doctor wondered why, meeting the intense stare earnestly.

"Jane hasn't been here in a good long while," she said eventually, shrugging as she fiddled about with her scant few possessions atop her allocated dresser, "and I don't know what you've been hearing but some friendly advice? Honey, ain't no one round here'll speak a word against Jane Rizzoli, least of all me and the girls here" she continued at Maura's nod of encouragement, "She's well liked round these parts so you just mind what you're hearing alright?"

"So what is she like?" asked Maura, coming to rest atop a pile of clothes at the side of where Peggy continued to make herself up with tiny touches of powder and paint.

"Ha! Jane?" cried another skinny girl named Rita before Peggy could answer, "why Jane's more of a gentleman than the, uh…gentlemen!" she laughed instigating a round of giggles to rattle about the room. Peggy rolled her eyes good-naturedly and shook her head before turning her head to look Maura straight in the eye;

"Don't believe everything you hear sweetie," she said firmly but not unkindly, tilting Maura's chin up with her fingertips, "if Jane ever comes back around here you'll see what I mean and I hope to god it's soon."

 **XXXXX**

The air, when Maura finally braved the trip down the stairs to the main saloon hit her like a force ten gale, her head rocking back convulsively at the stench of sweat colliding with a strong hit of whiskey and cigar smoke that burned at her eyes. All around the large space men caroused over poker games while girls with their buxom bosoms on full display bounced on laps and laughed with false delight. Yes, a few coins could provide great incentive.

Glancing across at the bar she spotted Crowe's stare and he thrust his head roughly in the direction of the piano and Maura took the hint, wading through the rollicking, roiling swathe of people to the rickety old piano where a young man in a brown suit and bowtie plonked away at a tune, just barely audible above the general hubbub.

"Hello!" she shouted, "I'm Katie Beauclerc, are you Sammy?"

"Yes ma'am!" he yelled back and pointed towards a stack of sheet music propped on the upright, "you read dots?"

"Why yes!" she exclaimed, elatedly grabbing the sheets in a tight enthusiastic grasp- at last, something familiar that she knew how to do, "but I don't know any of these songs" she said despondently, flipping through the yellowing leaves of paper. Clearly the sort of singing she had been used to performing in the polite parties of Washington society were not quite bawdy enough for places like _The Dirty Bandit_ she thought dismally.

Thankfully Sammy noticed the disheartened look crossing Maura's features and he grinned winningly at her;

"Tell you what Katie, why don't you just start singing something you do know and I'll join in!"

Maura contemplated for a second, all too aware of Crowe's hard stares from across the bar, silently urging her to get on with it. Clearing her throat, she proceeded to sing, nervously at first but the longer she sang without anyone jeering or shouting in disgust the more confident she grew and soon her voice soared above the crowd, even a few of the patrons began to join in as the notes of the familiar chorus filtered through the thick air;

 _'Through progress of the railroads our occupation's gone;_

 _So we will put ideas into words, our words into a song._

 _First comes the cowboy, he is pointed for the west;_

 _Of all the pioneers I claim the cowboys are the best…'_

The song finished to wild cheers and rapturous applause, even Crowe's features smoothed into a grumpy sort of satisfaction. After a second song, Maura smoothly moseyed back over to the bar, noticing with not a little gratification the look of consternation pasted across the redhead's face who had been so rude to her earlier in the evening. She was already starting to enjoy this undercover malarkey; _you're here to do a job, remember?_ She mentally kicked herself.

The redhead looked as though she were about to saunter over to where Maura now stood self-consciously at the corner of the main bar with malicious intent but as it happened a small whirlwind of excitement distracted her as a bundle of barely contained energy barrelled through the swinging shutter doors.

"Lucia!" cried Peggy, the redhead and several of the other nearby girls.

"Well hi there, stranger," came Peggy, immediately placing her arm around the newcomer's shoulders and kissing her cheek, "funny, we were just talking about you" she murmured into the other woman's ear as she led her over to the bar and pouring her a whiskey.

 _Lucia?_ Maura's ears perked up, _wasn't that the name Frost thought was Jane Rizzoli's alias?_ She thought, sidling herself subtly closer; _Looks like Rizzoli is more of a regular here than the girls were making out…unless, no, they must know who that is but why would they lie about it? Are they protecting her in some way? Or perhaps themselves?_

Carefully she edged nearer still, just enough to try and earwig on the ensuing conversation.

 _'Well hey there pretty stranger, long time no-see'_ intoned the redhead in sensual undertones, insinuating herself into the narrow gap between Lucia's body and the bar top, almost knocking the bottle of whiskey over and bringing the other woman's hand to her own waist.

 _'Now, now, don't tell me you missed me there Miss Rachel'_ came the cocky reply, _'I'll just bet you've been getting' more'n' enough attention to keep me off your mind'_ and Rachel gave her a mock-affronted smack to the arm.

The newcomer, Lucia, was tall and slim, not out and out muscular but definitely wiry with a distinct power behind her movements. Here was a physical being clearly used to getting what she wanted or at least knowing how to make it happen but that _voice._ That voice, Maura found it drawing her into a whiskey-soaked haze. It was rough but there was a gentleness behind it in the way she talked and flirted playfully with the women who now crowded around her like bees round a queen, even some who had previously been seeing to other 'customers'.

Lucia, for her part, sipped her drink and smiled as she listened to the girls' chatter for a few minutes before politely excusing herself, nodding to Crowe and hinting for him to meet her at the far end of the bar, flicking a curious glance at Maura for just a second on her way past.

"Who's the new girl?" she muttered under her breath at the contemptible barkeep. She had no real regard for the man and knew fine and well how he treated his employees which was why she had tried to help out where she could, slipping them a few extra coins here and there, fending off over familiar patrons that proved a little too 'handsy' without stumping up the required fee first or worse still, using their hands in more violent methods but he was a useful mine for information and so she tolerated him with thinly veiled contempt. He tolerated her because of the business she brought him through her own notoriety and also by the healthy amount of coins that passed from her curiously ridged hands to his. He never had ever built up the nerve to ask her how she got those scars. He'd heard that the last man who asked her had wound up dead. How true that was he didn't know but it wasn't worth finding out.

"New singer. She's off limits for now," he grunted, offering a sick grin that made her guts give a sharp twist, "I got plans for her though, don't you worry Rizzoli."

"Looks like she's pretty new to the game" she noted with false dispassion. _She looks nervous,_ she noted, _her eyes are everywhere…and that skin's perfect, never been touched. That girl don't belong in a place like this_ she thought sourly. It was bad enough that a sweet thing like Peg had found herself in a place like this.

The two continued to converse for a while and Maura watched avidly. They were too far away and the tavern once again far too noisy to pick up any of the conversation and besides, Lucia's back was turned to her but she was a decent lipreader. If she focused, she could just make out Crowe saying something like;

 _"Carson? Nah, not seen him in months…I'm telling ya Rizzoli, he ain't been by here…"_

So it was Jane Rizzoli. _But hold on,_ she thought, racking her brains, _hadn't Cavanaugh talked about the Carson Gang, Jane's old associates…hadn't Cavanaugh mentioned something about Carson Gang trying to bring Jane back into the fold, gah, something about a mutual interest…_ Maura couldn't think straight and while she may have picked up more of the conversation a decidedly unfriendly arm slapped itself about her shoulders and a wicked voice cut through her ear breaking her concentration;

"Sorry honey but you ain't getting' your hands on that one!" redheaded Rachel howled with bitter laughter, "you gotta earn your stripes first but hey, don't you worry your pretty little head now, you go find one of the boys that's more your style. This one's mine!"

And then she sauntered off, interrupting what looked like a mildly irritated Jane. Maura's head was already pounding and she really wished she could just go on upstairs to bed but she found herself continuing to stare openly at the barefaced woman who was now pressed up against the bar, the buckle of Jane's belt pressed lewdly and the juncture of her thighs as Rachel giggled wildly, her arms thrown casually about the other woman's leonine neck.

"What do you know about the new girl?" asked Jane quietly even as she began a gentle assault on Rachel's neck, allowing her hands to wander to down to the hem of Rachel's corset.

"Not much. City mouse come to the country, probably won't hack it for long…ha!" she laughed loud in Jane's ear, "mouse is about right! Afraid of her own itty, bitty shadow that one. Why do you care so much anyway?"

Jane shook her head distractedly;

"I don't know," she paused, allowing her thoughts to settle for a second, "there's something…off. What the hell's a girl like that doing in a place like this? She was watching me talk to Crowe."

Rachel huffed impatiently;

"She's trying to make it in a world she don't belong in- clumsy with it too! There. Now are you gonna keep this up or are we gonna have us a little good time tonight? I _have_ missed you y'know!"

Jane suspected it was the crop of cash she usually brought with her that Rachel had really missed but Jane was a prime customer and Rachel was sort of the chief around the inn who kept the rest of the ladies in line, so-to-speak. Jane would have much rather spent the evening with the quiet, unassuming Peg but she also knew that Rachel would never have stood for it. Rachel was brash and boisterous and proud, in an odd sort of way about what she did for a living. Jane was quiet and reserved, she lived her life in the shadows but the impetuous redhead insisted on throwing a stream of bright light on them both purely for her own bragging rights. She was fun and good for a laugh and god-knew even Jane had a hard time keeping up with her but honestly, Rachel enjoyed her place of privilege as first to bag and bed anyone with a notorious reputation who happened on through.

As for Maura, it was only when she felt the unwelcome heat at her back that she noticed a sweating lump of grease that smelled like it hadn't been bathed since he was a day old had begun sidling up to her. She tried in vain to back away but the man kept leering at her, attempting to paw at the well-rounded bounty on blatant display before his eyes. Soon the blonde found herself backed into a corner with nowhere to go but then to her complete horror a shot was fired from seemingly nowhere, the glass the man had been holding was shattered all over the sticky wooden surface of the bar and he scuttled off into the throng. It was only when she looked across at Lucia…Jane…whoever she was that the woman was silently holstering a still smoking pistol back into its place on her belt all the while having never removed her head from Rachel's neck. But before she had time to react Peggy came rushing up, her hands instantly placed on either of Maura's shoulders;

"Katie! Honey! Are you alright?"

Maura, for her part, was completely poleaxed. Not once in her life had she ever actually experienced gunfire. Yes, her father had kept a rifle in his study for self-defence back in Boston but he had never actually _used_ it! She stared open-mouthed at Peggy, unable to coalesce any of the words racing through her mind into a coherent sentence.

"C'mon, let's get you a seat, I think maybe I oughtta explain a few things to you, alright?" and with that, Peggy led a still dazed Maura off to a small side table.

While Peggy went to get Maura a steadying drink of cold water, recovering from her own shock after discovering that the blonde never touched a drop of alcohol except for a glass of Champagne at New Year. After all, _Who the heck could afford Champagne?_ Maura spotted Jane and Peggy murmuring in conversation, unable to read what they were saying, their heads bent close together and for an instant, Maura was inexplicably envious. Eventually the two broke apart with Peg reaching for a jug of water from behind the counter while Jane walked past with a rather giddy-looking Rachel who looked to be leading the tall brunette towards the back stairs. Jane cast her an appraising glance as she passed by followed with a smirk that was cocky yet not unkind and a cheeky wink that made Maura's stomach give an involuntary flip. There were so many layers of interaction going on here that the very literal doctor had no genuine hope of understanding. What she needed was to talk to Frost in the morning. In the meantime, she hoped that Peggy might be willing to answer some of her questions. If not, she was certain she would be haunted by that smirk the rest of the night.

 **Phew! That felt like a lot of information to get out at once there but it needed to be done! Hope it wasn't too much of a slog to read!**

 **Remember that reviews and button-presses are like fat-free muffins to me so feed the writer!**

 **Incidentally, if you are like me and caught up in this crazy weatherfront then stay safe out there guys!**

 **Also, don't worry, we'll be seeing much more of Jane's perspective in the next few chapters but we're being introduced to this world by Maura so I kinda had to get her in there first.**


	5. Chapter 5

**You guys are absolutely amazing! Thank you so much for all the love being sent my way!**

 **Disclaimer; see Chapter One**

 **Chapter Five**

The thud as Jane's foot landed on the bottom step of the creaky wooden staircase sounded identical to the half dozen thuds that had preceded it but then she never had exactly been the graceful type. A wild child by nature, her oft despairing mother had long-since given up on any faint hope that her daughter might at some stage mend her ways and begin acting like a real lady. Jane just wasn't built that way.

Affixing her black Stetson more firmly atop her signature cascade of black curls she glanced up just in time to avoid clattering straight into the new girl, Katie Beauclerc who, to Jane, seemed a bit of a strangely curious creature herself.

Momentarily blinded by the sunlight streaming in through smeared windows that looked as though they hadn't seen a washcloth in a decade or more, the heavy mustiness of the tavern air visible in a thick haze that floated in front of her vision but then a few pure beams of golden yellow did manage to break unhindered through a series of occasional bullet holes or cracks in the old wooden walls. For a second or two Jane felt a tad dazed, blinking uncertainly at the blonde who stood apologetically before her, bright rays of daylight bouncing off blonde curls almost like a halo, taking a second to wonder how anything so angelic-looking had managed to find her way into a Western dive of a whorehouse.

"Sorry ma'am" she mumbled, still not quite awake as she rubbed tired, bleary eyes with the back of a tanned hand before tipping her hat, appreciating the rather becoming flush that crept across Katie's unusually creamy features.

She knew that Rachel had likely been a little cruel to her on her first night as the redhead was often wont to do with anyone new that, dare she say, might be a threat and Jane eyed her with a touch of sympathy but did not make any further overtures as she stepped aside to let the woman pass before waving a farewell through the doorway to where the rest of the bordello's girls were enjoying a hearty breakfast but just as her fingertips made the barest contact with the doorknob, Peggy called out to her;

"Hi," she said breathlessly, moving well into the taller woman's space, "I, uh, I wanted to see you Jane," she said under her breath, "you comin' back this way tonight?" she asked hopefully, bringing her fingers to Jane's chest.

"'course I will Peg," Jane smiled, the first genuine smile Maura had seen grace her the lips since she had arrived the night before. "Y'know I'd rather have _enjoyed_ your company last night but…"

"Rachel" Peg finished ruefully with a gust of breath that would have to pass for a laugh. "I've missed you Jane Rizolli. You know, you ain't exactly been around too much lately" she said despondently, disgusted at the pathetic way she sounded, even to her own ears but she couldn't help it. In all the years she had been whoring herself out to passing strangers for a few pennies, Jane had been the only one who ever really _saw_ her. Yes, she painted on a smile and cheered others as she went along but inside was a gaping hollow where that spark she had taken for granted as a child was gone. In a strange way, Jane made her feel like a safe young woman again.

"Things not been so good round here, huh?" asked Jane with an understanding that surprised Maura from where she continued to eavesdrop almost shamelessly on their conversation. _Almost._ _There could be valuable intelligence to be found in a conversation like this_ she told herself but as she followed their interaction she found herself more fascinated by their behaviour towards each other; the casual caresses and _sotto voce_ that Maura found hard to reconcile with the image of the hardened criminal she had built up in her mind when she had tried to picture Jane Rizzoli. _Honour amongst the immoral?_ She pondered curiously.

Peggy shook her head with a quiet _no._

"Crowe?" Jane asked, the edge plain to hear in her voice and Peggy nodded. "Well, you can tell me all about it tonight, alright?" said Jane easing an arm around the younger woman's waist, pulling her closer as they regarded each other for long moments.

"You know it isn't the money, right? That ain't why I'm tellin' you this. It ain't the reason why I been missin' you so much" said Peggy.

"Yeah, I know," Jane replied, and Maura could see that earnestness again, "but it don't hurt, right? Hey, he ain't takin' from more from you, is he?" She asked intently, glad when Peggy shook her head in the negative. Jane knew fine and well how much money the despicable Crowe took off the ladies of a night. With Peggy, Jane always left her a handful of extra coins in the secret hope that the girl would have the sense to keep it squirreled away somewhere private and someday break out of the terrible life she had been forced to live after having been brutally assaulted by a band of passing thieves in the same attack that had killed her mother and stolen her own innocence, leaving her with three younger siblings to care for and no prospect of a respectable marriage. It was a story that had cried out to Jane's heart when they had first met, probing her delicately as to how such a clever and pretty young woman had wound up in such a terrible place.

"Well, listen, tonight I am all yours, alright?" and without waiting for a reply, she dipped her head to drop a kiss on the other woman's lips. "You're still my best girl Peg, don't you ever go forgettin' that, you hear?" she said with a grin though her calculating stare belied her concern.

Maura continued to observe their actions and felt something unfamiliar twist unpleasantly in the pit of her stomach. She had never been one given to jealousy, rational-headed as she was but twice now within the space of twenty-four hours she found herself feeling the stirrings of envy. She examined the way the two women's hands explored each other; the way Jane's fingers danced playfully across Peggy's waist through the lacy material of a white dress that clung in the obscenest places and then up to where the younger woman's nails scratched lightly over the muscles of Jane's back, just about visible through the black cotton shirt she had come in wearing the previous evening. _Posterior Deltoids, Upper Trapezius, Rhomboids,_ she thought comfortingly, reminding herself to breathe as the audible 'chrroooop' at the break of their kiss made her ears prick and her stomach give a great swoop. She wasn't sure exactly what she was envious of, but the aura of their obvious intimacy teased at her senses, mocking at her own innate awkwardness.

When they finally broke apart Jane once again tipped her hat in Maura's direction with a decidedly pointed look and a meaningful _'Miss Beauclerc'_ to which Maura at least had the decency to blush at being so obvious in her spying on such a private moment. Peggy, on the other, did not look the slightest bit perturbed as she greeted her with a breezy _'good morning, Katie! Glad you finally decided to join us!'_ looking considerably more cheered as she lead her off to join the others before the eggs and bacon turned cold just as the sound of the back door clattered shut in the distance.

Surrounding the table, the rest of the women listened avidly as Rachel bragged about her exploits with _Lucia_ the night before, while Peggy rolled her eyes at Maura from where she had re-taken her seat across from the blonde, picking her knife and fork back up and digging in with relish. Maura shook her head dolefully in response.

It was well-known that the redhead loved to brag about the famous lawless souls she had encouraged into her bed and their athletic performances, but Jane, a local celebrity by way of her sheer notoriety, had always been her favourite boast and even if the night hadn't, in the end, quite lived up to her expectations, whatever hadn't happened, pride dictated she make up. Unfortunately for this morning, Jane's distracted mood had left her with much yarn to spin. More than once during their exploits that night had she had huffed in frustration and smacked the other woman around the head, asking her what she was paying her for and didn't she realise how lucky she was? Still, as Rachel blustered on about their alleged _boudoir acrobatics_ Maura thought back over the preceding twelve hours and remembered cringingly the redhead's loud shrieks of delight that had emanated throughout the bordello's halls which, now she came to think of it, had definitely seemed a little over-the-top, even for this rambunctious woman, as if she were trying to overcompensate for her partner's silence. Then she recalled an earlier point during the evening when Rachel had reappeared in the bar wearing nothing but a truly scandalous set of lingerie and heels proclaiming proudly that her _customer_ had worked up quite a thirst before grasping at a bottle of whiskey and tottering back up the creaky stairs, the sound of raucous laughter following her all the way up to the landing. It all seemed so utterly ridiculous to Maura as she eyed her sardonically, as if Rachel lived for the theatricality of it all.

"I thought the… _customers,"_ Maura said carefully, "weren't allowed to stay overnight?" she ventured.

Rachel just stared at Maura open-mouthed with an expression of utter contempt and the blonde could hear the snigger of Rita and another girl she remembered whose name was Donna in the background. It reminded her of the spiteful hallway whispers that had followed her throughout her schooldays.

" _Gentlemen_ aren't allowed to spend the night," replied Rachel haughtily as if she were talking to a particularly dim five-year-old, "but _Lucia_ ain't no gentleman, is she? And besides," she continued with a careless shrug, "she pays well for the privilege".

XXXXX

Jane unhitched _Thunder_ from the communal post at the back of _The Dirty Bandit._ Giving the huge black stallion's silk-smooth coat a gentle brush over with a clump of fresh hay she had grabbed from a nearby stack, patting her other hand over his mane, almost seeming to luxuriate under his mistress' firm strokes as was his due. _And why not?_ She thought laughingly.

"You pulled me outta more scrapes than I damn dare count boy!" she joked, not even bothering to consider the remotest possibility that Thunder wouldn't understand every single word she was saying.

Her mind drifted back over her night of supposed revelry at Crowe's grimy old establishment with it's rickety ancient beds and foul patrons. The truth was she really couldn't be bothered with any of it anymore. She had long ago outgrown her old life of showgirls and hard drinking with men who only respected her because of the quickness of her draw. It was tiring playing the part but for the time being it was just something she would have to endure if she was to try and catch up with her old trail buddy Jimmy Carson. She knew from what Korsak had told her that Jimmy was likely to come looking for her but god-only-knew when and if he did, the _Bandit_ was the safest bet.

As far as the girls went, she really had hoped that Peggy would have busted out of there by now- Jane had certainly provided her with enough funds over the past few years to set her up good somewhere. She couldn't understand where all that money could possibly have vanished to. So now she guessed that was just another reason for her to stick around for a while.

She sighed a little guiltily. The truth was, she probably had been wasting Rachel's time a bit last night and couldn't blame her for her displays of irritation. She really hadn't been up to the task, her mind on far off things, not helped by the fact that the face of the new girl, Katie Beauclerc kept insisting on floating in front of her eyes. Not that this was particularly unusual as such. In her younger days Jane Rizzoli's appetite for pretty girls had been almost as legendary as her skill with a gun and her short temper. No new lady in any of the taverns up and down Arizona, as far as Utah had been safe. In her lust for violence and adventure she had felt the insatiable need to try every sweet in the sweet shop, but age and experience had tempered her over the years. The last couple of years living as Lucia Venuti had cooled the torrents of rage and passion within her, leaving Jane Rizzoli in a place of contentment with her lot in life, fiercely proud of her hard-won independence but without the burning need to rail against the world and everyone in it.

Katie Beauclerc was something different again though. There was something off there but Jane just couldn't put her finger on it. Apparently, she had proved herself a fine singer but the girls could make good money selling their bodies to passing trade. Katie, with her beauty, bountiful assets and flawlessly unmarred skin could have been making a fortune but then that was exactly the reason Jane couldn't have figured her for a woman who frequented such establishments as the _Bandit._

As much as Jane loved Peg and Donna and Rita and even Rachel in her overbearing way, they were women who _belonged_ in houses like that but this Katie just _didn't._ It didn't make sense and Jane Rizzoli hated things that didn't make sense. Living in an era where trust was hard to come by beyond your gun and your horse had taught Jane well. Katie Beauclerc was worth the watching.

XXXXX

The rest of breakfast had consisted of blocking out the remainder of Rachel's prattling while Maura secretly focussed her attention on the conversation she needed to have with Frost. What she hadn't realised until she returned to her room in preparation for the day ahead was that having been in such a panic about her outfit the night before, she had forgotten to bring a change of clothes with her. Needless to say the rest of the girls had each worn an assortment of decidedly peculiar expressions when Maura hazarded out into the high Arizona heat wearing a long coat that covered her all the way down to her ankles, wrapped tightly around her torso with her own arms hugged around her waist.

She kicked herself inwardly; apparently Katie Beauclerc was turning into just as much of a perceived oddball as Maura Isles.

She remained lost in such dreary thoughts as her feet carried her hurriedly around the side of _The Dirty Bandit_ until she quite literally bumped into the fine-cut figure of Jane Rizzoli, the collision knocking herself backwards and an expulsion of air from Jane that came out in a great _Oof!_

Thankfully the other woman possessed quick reflexes, managing to catch Maura before she went tumbling into the ground.

"Oh, my goodness! I am so sorry Miss, er-Rizz-Venuti" she exclaimed, her arms comically flailing about in a desperate attempt to steady herself. She could not for the life of her understand just what it was about this place that was turning her so clumsy. Her consternation only grew as Jane burst out in great laughter, frowning at the woman who continued to support her weight at the waist. "This is not funny!" she grumbled.

"Would you rather I drop you and let you fall then Miss?" chuckled Jane beneath mock sincerity and she briefly let up on her grip making Maura squeal in protest.

"No!" the blonde expostulated, "no, please, I'm sorry, just, could you please help me stand?"

"Alright, I guess so" said Jane, finally taking pity on the poor woman who, in her view at least, definitely appeared to be lacking any normal sense of humour yet a strangely endearing way. She eased her back up on to her feet, allowing Maura to regain her balance before fully relinquishing her grip on her surprisingly toned arms.

"I, um, thank you. You saved me from a nasty fall that may have seriously injured my posterior chain and the surround _Erector Spinae_. A hard landing on the coccyx can lead to future lumbar complications" she blurted and Jane stared at her agog before her mind scrambled back over the last few minutes. She eyed Maura carefully for a beat;

"You know who I am…" she said, leaving the question hanging in the air.

"Uh, yes, yes I do" Maura stammered and waited nervously while Jane seemed to be evaluating something in her head.

"Then I guess you had better start calling me Jane like the rest of the girls," she said, sticking her hand out for Maura to shake, "just don't go shouting about it too loudly, alright?" she finished and though her face was perfectly serious as Maura went to take Jane's hand in the fragile clasp of fingertips she had been taught growing up in the high society of Boston she noted that the brunette's eyes remained kind, even amused at the blonde's dainty manners.

"Katie. Katie Beauclerc" she replied at last.

"Yeah, I know" chuckled Jane.

"Yes" corrected Maura without thinking.

"Yeah, that's what I said" replied Jane in slight confusion.

"Yes but it's… _yes"_ said Maura again, unsure why she suddenly felt the need to give this total stranger a grammar lesson.

"Uh-huh" said Jane appraisingly, "well now Katie Beauclerc, if you're safe to be let about the town I guess I oughtta go let you to it. Just uh, try not to bump into any more folks, huh? After all," she said with a cocky tip of her hat at she clambered easily up into the giant western saddle slumped atop Thunder's back, "they might not all be as quick as me at catchin' ya and I'd hate for you to go bangin' on no spinach erection or whatever the hell you reckon you were gonna land on!" she said, laughing mightily as she drew the huge black stallion away and now the narrow lane. _Well, she ain't dull, that's for dang sure!_

XXXXX

Maura burst into the safehouse red-faced and panting with the heat, desperately wafting the flaps of her jacket from side-to-side in an effort to create some kind of draught.

"Frost!" she shouted.

"Frost!" she tried again when no response had been forthcoming.

"Frost!" she cried once more, this time trudging up the wooden steps to a kind of mezzanine level under the rafters where Frost had opted to camp down at night.

"Frost" she tried again, softer this time as she knelt next to his soundless form, giving his shoulder a shake, then again more firmly, grimacing when her only response was a disgruntled groan. "Barold Frost!" she said again sharply, sitting up onto her knees with her hands thrust firmly on her hips.

Eventually, he rolled over towards the obnoxious sound, his hand grasping at his face as he tried to clear away the blur of sleep from his mind.

"Maura?" he tried, his mouth that particular dry that sprang from a night of sampling the local beverages. "What are you…?" he trailed off, only just noticing the crisp morning light beaming through the barn-cum-house that currently made up his abode.

"Frost, I think I'm in trouble. I have made contact with the target and she knows I know who she is!"

"You what?" he cried, sitting bolt upright before grabbing at the sudden pounding in his forehead.

"Frost, I'm really not good at this undercover thing! I've made a complete mess of this whole thing!" she said, pressing at her pulse point in a panic as she began to hyperventilate, wishing the mezzanine wasn't so small that she could pace. "I don't know what to do! You should have got someone else."

"Maura!" he said firmly, pulling at her wrists, "Maura, you're doing fine. Maybe this could even work to our advantage…" he said as ideas flitted through his hangover-addled brain. "If you could use this connection to somehow gain Rizzoli's trust we could find out a lot more than we bargained on."

" _For_ " corrected Maura automatically. "Sorry," she said bashfully, "but I think I may have already overheard some things of interest."

"Oh?" asked Frost, inviting Maura to continue.

"Yes…and I think I need to learn some new songs" she replied.

"I think I need some coffee" said Frost.

XXXXX

Maura's thoughts were jumbled as she strolled, admittedly a lot more comfortably through the town. Frost had provided her with another of his ill-gotten outfits that was a touch more revealing than the reserved Medical Examiner would normally have chosen but she did have to acknowledge that the young man certainly did have a flair for size and fit. _Perhaps in another life he might have made an excellent tailor_ she mused.

Over coffee and some sort of sticky buns that Frost preferred as opposed to a somewhat more balanced breakfast- much to Maura's protestations- the two had discussed the conversation she had lip-read between Jane and Crowe the night before. She hadn't added any of the extra detail she had picked up along the way from Jane's dealings with Peggy. It seemed intrusive and unnecessary, even if she were dealing with what was essentially a large-scale criminal conspiracy. Her overhearing had been illicit and unwarranted, more for her own shameful nosiness than any official investigation she may have been undertaking.

Frost explained Jimmy Carson's connection to Jane Rizzoli, revealing that the two had long ago been outlaws together but then Jane had somehow dropped off everyone's map and Carson had been spreading himself a little thinly throughout the West but had always managed to keep himself at least one step ahead of the law.

Apparently, Jane had disappeared with the help of a local sheriff in Cave Creek by the name of Vince Korsak. Years ago, Korsak had been assigned to Rizzoli's capture but had somewhere along the way and despite her brutal methods, found her blatant disregard for the law to his advantage when tracking down even more vicious criminals. The two formed an unlikely silent partnership with Korsak giving Jane her head as long as what she did, she did for the right reasons. It had been long suspected that he had been the one to help her craft a new identity for herself but getting Rizzoli out into the open was always going to be a challenge in such a tight-knit local community.

But now Carson wanted Jane back for one last run. A mutual enemy by the name of Benji Hoyt had been making his presence felt up in Wyoming and Utah. One of the US Marshall's office's top agents, a guy named Martinez had been looking for a way to draw Carson out for months and if he got Jane Rizzoli along as part of the deal then so much the better. Though Rizzoli and Carson had gone quiet for a while they were still loose ends and their deeds legendary enough throughout the West to inspire any other young guns out there looking for trouble…and Martinez hated loose ends. Martinez would be remembered as the man who brought lawfulness to Arizona and beyond.

It was this reverie that an unusually cheery voice pulled her from;

"Is that bothering you? I have some ointment I can give you that'll clear that right up!"

Maura glanced down at her arms, not having realised until now that she had never scratched the skin off her arms though but this point she doubted very much it was anything to do with the abundance of hay that pervaded through Frost's safehouse. In fact, this whole situation was making her skin crawl.

"I'm Susie, Susie Chang!" said the woman with a winning smile and a ready hand.

"Mau- uh, Katie," said Maura, taking the other woman's hand delightedly, happy to meet such a friendly character in this place where everyone either scowled or laughed at her just as they had in Boston or Washington City, "Katie Beauclerc!"

"Well Katie Beauclerc," said Susie with a gentle mirth, "my father and I run a Chinese Medicine store just a ways down the road if you'd like to come on by."

"Oh, how wonderful!" exclaimed Maura, "I've always been fascinated by Chinese herbal medicine!"

"You _have_?" asked Susie reservedly, eyeing the blonde carefully up-and-down, taking in the low-cut dress that revealed more of Maura's 'gifts' than would have ordinarily been decent, the bouncy curled hairstyle that Frost had suggested she adopt while she was here as well as the bright red paint that accentuated her full lips. Feeling a bit discombobulated Susie tried to sound helpful;

"Well, I understand that women in your…uh, _position_ can often be given to certain _conditions_ that may arise as a result of your work. Severe itching like that can sometimes indicate a drop in your body's ability to fight certain diseases and…um…"

"Oh, don't worry," said Maura, finally catching on to what Susie was implying, "I do not engage in the conjugal relations that my co-workers do. I simply sing" said Maura so casually that Susie could only stare slack-jawed.

"Uh…you, you don't huh? Well…that's, that's good I guess" said Susie eventually, trying to somehow reconcile the ensemble with the woman who was currently inhabiting it. "Well, how about I take you to see my father? I have a feeling he is going to find you most interesting Miss Beauclerc."

Susie invited Maura to walk with her to the store and she did, eagerly. She had the distinct feeling that she had perhaps, for the first time in her life, met what her grandmother might have referred to as a 'kindred soul'.

"You can meet Fluffy" said Susie as she guided Maura through Carefree.

"Fluffy?"

"Yes. Fluffy the Lizard."

 **Alrighty folks, I know this update took quite a while to come out but I hope it was worth the wait. This chapter initially had much further to go but this felt like a good place to pause for breath then there'll be a shorter chapter to follow.**

 **Love to all and thanks for reading! Remember, I loves me muffins like Santa loves Mince Pies so leave some behind for me**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi guys!**

 **Apologies to all my lovely readers for the delay on getting this next chapter out. Life's kinda caught up with me a bit lately so I've spent the last couple of weeks catching up on life!**

 **Anyway, it's a bit of a shorter update this time around- it's what was originally going to be the rest of the last chapter but is now another chapter in its own right.**

 **Also, thank you so much for all the support by means of Reviews/Follows/Favourites you guys have been sending my way. You're the ones keeping this story moving.**

 **Have fun!**

 **Oh, small sweary alert ahead!**

 **Chapter Six**

The raucous, smoky atmosphere and plunking piano in _The Dirty Bandit_ really was the last thing Jane was in the mood for that evening. These days, all the former outlaw craved was a fire and her mother's cooking if she felt like being sociable. Most nights she was content in her own company either camped out somewhere under the stars or under the security of her own damn rickety roof, long legs stretched out before her as she lounged in her very own armchair with Jo Friday curled up by her crossed feet.

Her humour lifted for the briefest moment as she recalled the day she first came across the dusty little fur-ball in some godforsaken spit of land in the desert where the town that had been first raised not twenty years beforehand had already been abandoned by its inhabitants as a bad lot. Lord-only-knew how Jo had come to be there, small and frail as though she had never really grown to begin with. For all Jane knew, the mutt's mother may have belonged to one of the ill-fated townsfolk and simply been abandoned when the settlement went to rack and ruin.

She hadn't even been sure what it was at first. Grateful for the shelter under which she could stop and rest for the night during a long stint on the trail, Jane had only just bedded down for the evening when a sort of odd snuffling sound coming from a corner of the ramshackle barn she had selected made her ears prick in alarm. With hand edging towards her trusty Colt she nearly hit the ceiling when a strange mop-like creature shuffled its way towards her, its pathetic whingeing touched at something tender in her heart. More fleas than hair with white hair only vaguely visible beneath a layer of muck Jane fell instantly in love.

Even now, there were time when she could have seen Jo far enough, usually when she insisted on scampering about under her feet when Jane was trying to muck out the barn or while up a ladder trying fix something in the house but watching her sleep, all clean and well-fed this wild woman couldn't help but feel the swell of pride rise deep within her chest. At least she'd gotten something right in her life.

Now, she had to grit her teeth and face the clattering population of Carefree, swinging the saloon doors open with an irritated grunt. The one saving grace was that tonight she could look forward to Peg's company. Peggy was one of the few people she could tolerate in this kind of mood. The sweet girl would not press her or force her to be anything more than she could handle. Instead, she would stay quietly near, ready to talk if Jane wanted or purely just with a comforting touch…perhaps more if she desired and she always knew when to beat a steady retreat. Sometimes Jane thought the younger woman knew her tempers better than she did herself.

Elegantly side-stepping the occasional carousing drunk, Jane eased herself towards the bar, shaken out of her inner monologue when she copped a glimpse of Peg.

As Jane's booted feet audibly thumped across the bar floor, even in the ruckus, the distinctive clink of her spurs unique to the woman's slightly uneven gate Peg tried vainly to dip her head to the side, desperately attempting to hide one half of her face. She knew it was futile but the longer she could delay the bomb that was sure to go off the second Jane saw the rather ugly shiner that now graced her right cheek, the better. But it was all too late now and the taller woman stalked towards her in two giant strides;

"Peg! What the hell happened?" growled Jane, grabbing the girl by the shoulders in sudden fury. "Who did this? What bastard laid his damn hand on you?" she demanded when no answer was forthcoming.

"Jane, it's nothing, please!" Peggy pleaded.

"Don't you dare tell me this ain't nothin' Peg!" Jane hissed, "don't you damn-well dare ever think no man has a right to put his hands on you now who was it, huh? Deek? Clayton? There ain't a scumbag a live that does this to you and gets away with it, y'hear?"

Jane's eyes had unconsciously taken on that wild, crazed look that had terrified bigger men and now had left Peggy stunned into uncertain silence. It wasn't that she was afraid of Jane necessarily but she _was_ afraid of what she might do to defend her.

" _Tom Ford!_ " came a voice from over Jane's shoulder and she turned in that direction, still unwilling to relinquish her grip on Peggy's shoulders, her fingers tightening almost painfully into the smaller girl's flesh.

"What?"

"Tom Ford came in here earlier wantin' a poke with Peg," said Rita, clearly in the midst of entertaining her own _customer,_ "but she told him 'no'," she said with a grin, "said she was holdin' out for you! Oh, he gave her a right good smackin' for that!" she giggled, "never could take a tellin', that man!"

Jane turned back to face Peggy, abruptly realising the whiteness of her fingers where they dug into the other woman's dress sleeves and released her grip, rubbing her hands gently back and forth over her shoulders in soothing apology;

"Is that right? That what happened Peg?" she asked, her tone full of nothing but remorse.

Peggy only nodded before noticing that Jane's eyes were already staring distantly at the saloon doors, her gaze unfocussed.

"Jane, please don't" she said, reaching up with shaking fingertips to the taller woman's chin, bringing her attention softly back to her, "I know what you're thinkin' Jane Rizzoli" she continued, her voice lowered to a more intimate whisper, forcing Jane to concentrate on her words. "Don't go out there…"

Jane shook her head, her brow creased in frustration;

"I'm sorry Peg but I have to. I can't let him treat you that way and get away with it."

The younger brunette's further pleas fell on deaf ears as Jane gave a light stroke to her cheek in farewell before proceeding unerringly back out into the brisk night air.

 **XXXXX**

It was around half an hour later when a rather bedraggled Tom Ford burst through the swing doors of _The Dirty Bandit,_ actually breaking one side off its hinges completely having been propelled rather swiftly by the boot of a certain Jane Rizzoli. He landed smack straight into the foot of the bar island, the solid brass footrail colliding rather neatly with the base of his spine, the man letting out a satisfying yelp and the pain. Without further ceremony, Jane crossed the floor in three sizeable steps this time, the crowd having sensibly cleared the area at the pair's sudden arrival, looking on eagerly from the surrounding tables dotted around the perimeter of the room.

Maura watched, fascinated from her place at Peg's side by the piano at the opposite end of the inn where she had been doing her best to comfort the poor girl, astounded as Jane, with seemingly barely no effort at all, hoisted the filthy cowboy who appeared as though he had been sloshing about in a muddy puddle in recent history, up by his shirt collar back to his feet before booting him soundly to Peggy's feet. Given the mud-rings adorning the lower portion of Jane's black jeans, had Maura been the type to do so, she may well have guessed that the tall brunette may well have been responsible for at least some of it. She was certainly responsible for the rancher's current state of dishevelment, having not let up on her assault of the man since the pair's rather violent arrival.

"Miss, I believe this here man owes you an apology" said Jane, her breaths coming in great puffs from hauling the great lump across town from where he had been pitched up at a corral on the outskirts. When Ford seemed reluctant in his contrition a quick kick to his back apparently jolted his need for repentance, making Maura jump in fright, grateful that no one seemed to have noticed.

"I'm sorry" he mumbled. Jane strolled arrogantly around the kneeling man before crouching down to his eye level, piercing him with an anger-filled gaze and grabbing a fistful of his hair.

"I'm sorry, I don't think Miss O' Donnell heard you Tom?" she said, her voice wafer thin with fire and ice and tightened her grip on Tom's short, black hair, forcing his head back.

"I'm sorry Miss O' Donnell, I didn't mean anythin' by what I did, I swear it!" he said, spots of saliva spurting forth with each word and he clenched his teeth against the pain of Jane's fist at his head and the unseen but understood threat of her knife that prodded at his belly.

"You're a kid, Ford," said Jane resolutely, intent on embarrassing him into never behaving the way he had again, "and kids sometimes do stupid things when they don't get their own way, right?"

"Right. Yes ma'am" he said.

"And you ain't never gonna go doin' somethin' that stupid again, right?"

"Right ma'am" he said again, trying to nod his compliance against the woman's grasp.

"Miss O' Donnell, do you accept this dumb son 'f a bitch's apology?" she said, turning to Peggy and a secret glance of amusement passed between the two of them. Jane was enjoying this.

"I do" said Peggy, as sombrely as she was able with the tickle of mirth not far at her throat.

"Well then, I guess you can go now Tom" she chuckled with a final kick to his behind.

After a brief scrabble to get to his feet, Tom Ford hustled off out of the bar and the chatter once again steadily began to echo around the walls.

"Ma'am," said Jane laughingly as she tipped her hat to Peggy and Maura each, "ma'am."

"Jane Rizzoli, I do declare, you are terrible but God-knows, I love you for it!" said Peggy, her fingers reaching to brush Jane's sleeve, leaving them there as she led the former outlaw to a table in a somewhat quieter corner of the inn where two older and wiser patrons seemed content to deal a few hands. "Here," she said softly, pulling a chair out for Jane to sit down, "I'll be right back," her fingertips blazing a trail across the other woman's shoulder while the men dealt her in, happy enough if all she wanted was a peaceful round of poker.

 **XXXXX**

Maura looked on from her place by the piano, thoroughly bemused as she tried to untangle each layer of interaction she had just been witness to. Yes, she had been truly shocked to the core by the sheer violence of the encounter. It seemed so at odds with the calm, easy humour of the woman she had met that morning and yet Jane was a product of this barbaric land. Protective as she was of the girls at the inn, she was rough, hardened by necessity of the life out here on the frontier. She had been borne to it and as curious as she was about the fine-cut figure, Jane Rizzoli was the very epitome of the lawlessness that she had been sent here to help stamp out. The West had to be civilised. The cowboy ways of Jane Rizzoli and others like her, even of Peggy and the other women had to die but trying to reconcile that in her mind was proving much more difficult than her previous black and white view told her it should be.

The high ideals that Cavanaugh and her superiors back in Washington had spoken of worked very well back East where people lived in smart townhouses and worked in offices but coming face-to-face with the people out here, warm, brave people trying to eek out a living in an unforgiving landscape were not sitting well with her conscience.

She watched as Peggy returned to the table carrying a full bottle of whisky where, eschewing a nearby empty chair, she draped herself across Jane's lap. She stared, mesmerised at the way the girl's fingers dabbed at the open cut on Jane's cheek where Tom Ford must have gotten in a stray lucky punch for she doubted very much that the woman gave much room for manoeuvre once she began an assault and noted with perhaps a note of envy that she, herself, would have been able to sew that up for the other woman so that it wouldn't scar nearly as much.

 _I wonder how many other scars she has?_ Thought Maura idly.

Peggy had forsaken the cloth and now had one arm about Jane's black cotton-covered shoulders while the fingers of her free hand trailed listlessly over the olive skin just visible through the open collar of Jane's shirt, exposing yet more flesh as she popped a further button or two as she went. Meanwhile, her lips casually caressed the other woman's neck causing the outlaw's lips to curl the tiniest fraction in a private smile.

Maura's stare intensified just a little as she paid more careful attention to those lips, grateful at her ability to intercept conversations in that manner. Jane was asking the two men at the table about Jimmy Carson and his whereabouts. Unfortunately the two men had their backs to her so she couldn't make out their answers but Jane seemed satisfied with their responses though quite how she knew that, Maura wasn't sure. Used to relying on empirical data and not listening to her intestines. She never had understood that expression.

She had to admit, however, Jane was a very skilled interrogator- her victims not even aware of what was happening to them. _It is a shame,_ Maura thought, _had she chosen a career in law_ _ **enforcement**_ _rather than law_ _ **breaking**_ _she may have been a great success but then,_ she mused further, _if Jane had not chosen the path that she had, neither would I be here now_ she considered curiously. Not that the blonde was a believer in that inherently flawed notion of fate but it was certainly an intriguing line of inquiry to bear in mind for future study.

Maura continued to observe as unobtrusively as she hoped she was being at the way Peggy continue to quietly but intently keep Jane's interest ticking while still letting the outlaw pursue her questioning with light touches and the pressing of lips on various patches of skin. It all seemed so unabashed, so raw but then in a place such as this, where people actively chose to come in their droves in the pursuit of fleshy pleasures it was no wonder that no one but the reserved doctor would bat an eyelid. Eventually, Maura saw Jane slip her fingers beneath the white garter strapped to Peggy's thigh, confirming her mutual interest. _Had Jane been undecided of her needs for the night? Is that how a woman stokes the fire of passion in another?_ She wondered.

Ever since she had first arrived at the bawdy bordello Maura had found herself in awe over the sheer mastery of the human body and mortal desires these women possessed. They had a knowledge that extended far deeper than her own medical ken of anatomy and physiology learned from textbooks and studying her father's life's work.

Rachel was brash as polished copper with flaming hair to match. Her gutsy attitude had men in awe but appeared to make little impression on Jane who, for all her uncultured frontier ways, was wise to the world in her own way. The other girls had their _clientele_ falling at their feet through a blasé humour and the knowing of when exactly to show a flash of ankle or bosom.

Peggy, on the other hand, currently adorning Jane's body in her white dress was certainly less than virginal but she retained a sense of naïve innocence about her. It was in no way cultivated or deliberate, Maura was sure of that but it was something that made the young woman attractive in the eyes of many of the men who frequented the brothel. _Was that what Jane found so desirable? What had her so enraptured with the girl?_ No. No matter what she had experienced of Jane's temper this evening she could not believed that the outlaw felt anything but a protective caring for these otherwise defenceless women.

"Hey! You gonna sing tonight woman or you just gonna stand there swoonin' over that damn rat all night?" She jumped as the gruff voice of Crowe barked at her from behind the bar.

"Oh, yes, I apologise Mister Crowe!" said Maura, flustered as she turned to Sammy who smiled earnestly up at her from where he continued plodding away at the piano keys.

"Don't mind him Miss Katie," he said, "that's just how old Crowe is, nothin' personal. Least, that's what I tell myself, anyway" he chuckled and in spite of herself, his easy laughter did serve to brighten her spirits.

"Well, since Mister Crowe asked so politely, I have been learning a new song. A friend has been teaching me!" she effused happily and Sammy had to let out a great bark of laughter at her almost childlike enthusiasm.

"Well alright then Miss Katie, let's see what ya got!"

 **XXXXX**

Despite the tender ministrations of Peggy's fingers and lips Jane found herself utterly bewitched by the sight and sound of Maura singing by the piano as the rest of the bar faded away in an awed hush. The first tune had been a simple one telling the story of a cowboy and all the trouble he'd managed to get a string of girls into as he drifted from town to town that had the whole in in an uproar of hilarity with a variety of patrons all adding their voices to the rather irreverent chorus but the second was different, a sort of love song, she supposed. A woman sings about the loss of her outlaw lover to the trail. She pleads with him to stay, to give up the only life he knows to settle and make a home with her but he refuses and now she mourns for the life she could never have with any other but him.

 _Dumbass idiot,_ thought Jane, _boy, if I'd had a Katie Beauclerc singing like that to me I might've…what are you thinking, Jane!_ She mentally smacked herself. The song ended far too quickly and the spell cast over the saloon was broken almost instantaneously as the general tavern clatter returned and Maura took a break.

Abruptly, Jane cleared her throat, giving herself a shake and throwing the last of her whisky down her throat with a burn before clasping Peggy's hand firmly in her own, entwining their fingers familiarly;

"C'mon, let's get outta here."

The last thing Maura saw of either of them that evening after she returned to the piano, noticing that the two women had moved, was the trail of Peggy's white dress as Jane led her up the stairs.

 **XXXXX**

Maura remained awake long into the night, shame-facedly straining to listen through the wall. Her room neighboured Peggy's and she found herself glad that no one was there to witness her sheer depravity. This was not behaving as the well-bred young lady she ad been brought up to be. Honestly, she had _tried_ going to sleep, she really had but the nagging need to know what was going on in the other room was nipping at her imagination. Why did it bother her so much that the two of them might be making love on the other side of that thin wall? _Were_ they making love or was she naively romanticising what was essentially a business transaction between client and service provider?

"Is there something in-between?" she questioned aloud in the darkness of her lonely room. An odd thing considering that throughout most of her life her own bedroom had been a much-needed sanctuary in a cruel world where she was an oddity but here, in this strange, foreign place, she was the only one who took to her bed without a companion for the night. Once again Maura was the odd one out in a brand new way.

 _But then they do care about each other…_ she continued her theorising. _Is there such a relationship that allows two people to care about each other enough that they can enjoy a physical relationship without love?_

Maura had honestly never given much thought to her own concept of sexuality before coming here. It was another way she differed from her contemporaries. Not that any of the girls at any of the schools she had attended had ever confided in her before but she had heard the giggling whispered conversations in the hallways and secret corners as they discussed men and future engagements and about what was expected within the confines of marriage. None of them really had a clue about how it all operated, none of them even having dared explore their own bodies for fear of supposed wickedness. Maura, at least had knowledge of how the human body operated in such matters but she had never truly understood the appeal of physical love as people did here.

Certainly, she had never really considered the possibility of marriage to a man in her life so love between women, while perfectly logical within nature, was something that had never even occurred to her. Yet once again here, anything seemed to go. They would have been shocking in their brazenness but in the apparent safety of this land, earlier this night, Donna and Rita had put on a show for some of the boys who had struck gold down the mines that day. The lads had loved it. _No doubt they will be earning well tonight,_ she mused. _It's strange,_ she allowed her mind to drift further, _in some ways they seem more civilised out here than they do back East. There is a tolerance here where all kinds of different people can make a place for themselves. People like Frost and Susie have a freedom here that they would have no chance of finding back in somewhere like Washington…is this all part of the life I am helping to destroy? Will these people be able to thrive openly in a place like Carefree once government civilisation reaches this land?_

It was a heady line of inquiry to be contemplating to late into the night. The soft, reserved creaks and bed-spring squeaks much in contrast to the over-the-top cries and thuds of Rachel's supposed encounter with Jane the night before nevertheless rattled around the room and Maura felt suddenly cold. Absently, she turned away from the sounds and wrapped herself a little tighter in her quilts as she remembered something Peggy had told her the night before when Maura had been asking about Jane; _'Jane don't treat us like whores.'_

 **XXXXX**

Peggy leant back into Jane's warm embrace as the taller woman stretched languidly relishing in the feel of the older woman's arms about her. Being with Jane had always felt good; comforting and pleasurable at the same time. She had always been a considerate lover, caring just as much, if not more, about Peg's pleasure as her own. Jane's body, while marred with scars like most of her customers, alluding to the harshness of a life on the trail, felt wonderful under her hands. Her physique was not exactly muscular like the men but the powerful energy housed within would never hurt her, never be used to cause her pain. Being with Jane was safe but that didn't stop the young woman from worrying at times;

"Why you asking about Jimmy Carson so much?" She asked quietly.

Jane remained silent in the gloom for long moments and Peggy wondered if the outlaw had fallen asleep. She knew it probably wasn't the wisest course of action to question Jane's motives but she needed to know. On reflection, if Jane had nodded off and not heard her, it might not be a bad thing.

"Why you asking?" Jane's voice rumbled from behind.

"Just asking Jane" she said, soothingly stroking Jane's arm where it crossed her waist.

"Well it's none of your damn business" huffed Jane defensively, screwing her eyes shut in frustration.

"Sorry," said Peggy, "I just worry about you sometimes is all. Jimmy Carson ain't someone anyone really wants to lookin' for. I know you two go way back but he's trouble Jane."

"I know," sighed Jane, "ain't no one knows that better'n me. We ran the trail together for years. Trouble always found us" she chuckled mirthlessly before softening and placing a small kiss to the younger woman's temple, "but I'm not worth your worryin' Peg. Whatever happens to me's gonna happen to me no matter whether you an' I want it to or not. I got to knowin' that a long time ago. Now get some sleep, huh?"

As Jane's body relaxed and grew slack behind her, Peggy's mind drifted to the extra bag of coin Jane would always leave for her somewhere unobtrusive. She knew why though Jane had never said it outright. She knew Jane's greatest wish for her was that one day she would walk into _The Dirty Bandit_ only to be told that Peggy O' Donnell had just up and disappeared, bought a ticket to New York, Philadelphia or hell, even _Albuquerque_ as long as she gone off with the prospect of a new life and a smile on her face.

Peggy had long since given up on her girlish dreams about a future with Jane. When she had first come to Carefree and found herself at the merciless hands of the inn's patrons she had become enamoured with the wild outlaw and the stories of her notoriety that contrasted so beautifully with her careful treatment of her. She had lain awake at nights after her customers had finished with her and been thrown out for the night, of settling, of Jane loving her as she yearned to be loved but the sad truth of it was, Peggy didn't think Jane was actually capable of that kind of love. Not in that way.

She would always hunger for Jane's touch, crave the safety her body provided, loved the rare nights when knowing that Jane was there she would sleep soundly. Jane had never poked fun at her inexperienced ways nor pitied her sad story as the other girls did but as she grew wiser she learned enough to accept the outlaw for who she was, to take the caring that she offered with gratitude but never to ask for more than she was able to give.

She had tried to imagine a life with a husband and maybe even children like her own siblings but then worried about the day that would inevitably come when they would lie together. Any man would expect to find his bride a virgin. An annulment for such reason would ruin any prospects she may have dared hope for.

With these thoughts running rampant through her mind she gave Jane a nudge behind her;

"Jane?"

"Mm, shh," came the sleepy response, "rest sweet girl. 'M right here. Everythin's gonna be fine."

 _Yes Jane. You don't know it yet but everythin' will be fine_ were the last conscious thoughts in Peggy's mind before she succumbed to sleep.

 **Dun, dun duuuuuuun! What did Peggy mean by that eh? Stay tuned guys!**

 **Remember, leave me some fat-free goodies :-D**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello wonderful readers!**

 **I am so sorry that I have neglected you all the last wee while, I know it's the old excuse now but life really has just been a bit crazy lately between working, studying, training and a whole host of other bits and bobs. So, without further ado, if you're still out there and willing to stick by me, here's another instalment. I wonder how our intrepid ladies are faring?**

 **Chapter Seven**

"Katie, have you seen Jane yet tonight?" Peggy's voice rung out over the general clatter of the bar. It was already well into the evening by this point and well past the time that the Rizzoli-shaped outlaw would normally have made an appearance by.

"No, Margaret, I'm sorry, I've been wondering the same thing" replied Maura. A few weeks had passed with not much further activity and Maura was beginning to question her whole raison d'être. Yes, the town was a touch rough and ready, its inhabitants raucous with little sense of shame or inhibition but they were not _bad_ people nor did Carefree feel exactly like some sort of hotbed of crime and sedition. Still, Maura had begun to settle into her new routine and she had to admit, she found her new life, that was, _Katie Beauclerc_ 's life, quite… _stimulating,_ in many new and unexpected ways.

Lately, she had taken to calling Peggy by her full name of Margaret, initially in a manner of tongue-in-cheek though Maura insisted that it lent the young woman an heir of sophistication.

Still, the matter of Peggy's question was concerning.

For weeks now, Jane had made a regular habit of making her presence felt in _The Dirty Bandit_ right before Maura's first set of the night, would linger in the company of other regular patrons she presumably knew enough from her outlaw days to make a few well-placed enquiries then settling in to hear the doctor's melodic tune-making before trailing a path up the stairs to Peggy's waiting bed.

Try as she might, Maura could never quite manage to dampen down the sting of jealousy that would always twist her gut into knots at that last thought. _God only knows why!_ She would remonstrate with herself, _she's an_ _ **outlaw**_ _for heaven's sake!_

Anxiously, she glanced around the thronging crowd. The familiar tall frame that radiated such a sense of security and authority was nowhere to be seen. Usually Maura would be able to sense the woman's presence without her needing to search for the dark curls that she could only imagine would cascade all the way down her back if only she could dare release them from the tight loop at the back of her head. It would sound a strange thing to say out loud but nevertheless, the instant the brunette stepped into the bar, the atmosphere would among the other patrons would change. A respectful hush would break out for a moment as if everyone were waiting to discover what kind of mood the fiery woman was in before being granted permission to continue in their jollity.

It truly was astounding to Maura, even with all of the freedoms she had hard-fought from her conservative Boston upbringing and the derision of her Washington colleagues that a woman, out here on the frontier, could command such respect. The idea captivated the doctor in awe until eventually she would snap herself out of her reveries and remind herself that she was there to help _capture_ said woman, thus conveying her to the proper authorities for trial.

It was befuddling in the extreme however, for though Jane appeared to Maura a tortured soul who had clearly survived extreme hardships and held herself aloft from the normal conventions of even this wild society through sheer necessity, she did not sense any badness in her either. She had clearly seen and perhaps even _done_ some terrible things but the ways I which she showed she cared, the gentleness she displayed towards these girls whom were offered no protection from any other corner went against everything the blonde had previously learned of this renegade from law and order.

"Hey, you! You gonna just stand there staring all night or you gonna get yourself up on that damn stage and earn what I'm paying ya!"

Maura jumped as Crowe's gruff voice penetrated her inner monologue.

"Uh, yes! Sorry Mr. Crowe!" cried Maura, shuffling as quickly as her long skirts would allow up onto the stage.

"You alright there Maura? You looked like you were miles away" grinned Sammy from his customary place at the piano, appearing very dapper as always in his brown checked suit complete with matching bow tie and bowler. She smiled back at him warmly. Aside from Peggy and Jane, Sammy was the only one in the _Bandit_ who ever seemed genuinely pleased to see her;

"I'm fine Sammy, thank you."

"Don't worry, Jane'll be here soon, I'm sure of it" he said, offering her knowingly pointed look.

 _Goodness, am I that obvious?_ Maura pondered as Sammy plunked away at the first few bars of her set.

 **XXXXX**

As Maura's melody began to float through the heady air Crowe hunkered over the bar, keen to hold the attention of one of his most important customers but the thankfully his Eastern songstress was doing a fine job at advertising her _merits_ all by herself.

The mayor of nearby Phoenix grunted as he pulled his sleeve off the sticky bar top.

"What'd I tell ya Mister Mayor? Ain't she somethin'? An' not even been touched once!" grinned Crowe lasciviously, exposing the yellowed few teeth that yet remained in his head.

"Yes Mr. Crowe, you did," said Mayor Jenkins, waving his arm dismissively, "how much are you asking for her?"

"Well, er…" Crowe hesitated for a moment.

"I want that girl Mr. Crowe. For once, I cannot accuse you of exaggerating your merchandise, now I could make good use of that tight, juicy peach for myself," he continued, lowering his voice confidentially, edging closer to Crowe over the counter before thinking better of it on catching a whiff of the man's foul breath, "and I'll pay you damn good for her. After I'm done with her you can toss her to any damn passing cowboy you want but she's mine first, understand?Now, name your price."

Crowe licked his lips, his eyes popping from his head making him resemble some kind of lizard.

"Well, y'see sir, I brought you down here to take a look at her, sure but I already put the word out that I was gonna auction her off later tonight, after she finished her first set…" he said nervously, obviously fearful of incurring the mayor's wrath and thus losing such a potentially highly profitable sale.

Jenkins considered the idea for several moments, his fingers stroking thoughtfully through his goatee;

"Alright Mr. Crowe, we'll do this your way, just make sure that I win" he said, his eyes gleaming with barely restrained arousal and Crowe grinned conspiratorially. He was well aware that Jenkins' tastes were as vile and despicable as his own under that refined coat and topper. After all, was that not the beauty of buying a whore in the first place? He could only imagine what Katie Beauclerc's introduction to the world of masculine desires would bring and the prospect made him tremble.

 **XXXXX**

Maura's first segment had been a hit as usual, the bustling crowd singing along with energy. It never failed to leave her feeling on a high as, laughing, she pushed her way through a seething mass of well-wishers to the bar for her customary glass of water though tonight, the lack of Jane's comforting presence provided more than a slight dampener to her usual sense of triumph.

"Katie!" called Crowe, waving his hand over for her to join him and a rather well-dressed, older gentleman at the far corner. "Katie, c'mere, I'd like ya to meet Mr. Reginald Jenkins, Mayor of Phoenix" he said with befitting flourish although it came across more as though her were attempting to introduce a debutante at a tramp's ball.

"Why! Mr. Jenkins, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance! I know you by repute, of course" said Maura, offering her hand politely.

"So well-spoken too!" exclaimed Jenkins to Crowe with a great guffaw. "The pleasure is indeed, all mine, Miss Beauclerc" he replied with the customary kiss to the back of her gloved hand but though his words were genteel, there was something in this man's eyes that Maura found extremely distasteful and she felt her hackles rise accordingly.

"Wonderful!" cried Crowe, clapping his hands together before throwing Jenkins a conspiratorial wink, "let's get this show on the road, shall we?"

Maura spun around in confusion as Crowe immediately hopped up onto the bar, addressing the assembled crowd who now craned their necks to stare up at him.

"Now then _gentlemen,_ " he said wryly, "most of you know why we're here tonight and most of you already got your bids in so can I start the bidding puh-lease at $10, do I see $10? Yes, thank you, sir!"

The bidding continued up and up, her head spinning between the multitude of male hands, the cackling of Rita and Donna to the repulsive smirk of Jenkins behind her. Her faced paled and she tried to flee as realisation dawned but Jenkins grabbed her wrist and pulled her to his body, she could feel the throb of his desire prodding most unwelcomely at her thigh.

"Now, my dear this will go much better for you if you do not try to fight me" he murmured into her ear.

She wriggled fruitlessly in his grasp;

"How do you know?" she gulped, "you might not even win!"

"Oh, I will, young Katie, I will…" he chuckled, making Maura's stomach lurch.

 _Where is Jane?_ She thought frantically, _Or even Frost? Please, if you can hear me, somehow, somebody? Anybody?_ She pleaded frantically in her mind, desperately biting back tears at the scene unfolding in front of her. Finally, the price rose high enough for Jenkins to make his move with a finality that would bring an end to it.

"$150!" he called over the racket.

Crowe turned to him, stunned, his jaw flapping wildly changing him from looking like a lizard to more of a gasping cod.

"One….hu-hu-…do I have any advance on $150?" he said, turning back to the crowd who breathed a collective groan at the inevitable, holding a half-empty bottle aloft, "going once, going twice-"

"$500!"

An achingly familiar rasp reached out over the exasperated mob.

"Jane!" screeched Maura, pulling against Jenkins' grip on her wrist with all her might, not caring how desperate she sounded.

"What?" sputtered Jenkins and Crowe simultaneously. "You can't do that Rizzoli?" retorted Crowe.

"Oh? And why's that Crowe?"

As Jane moved closer through the shifting light, Maura could see the shadows of several cuts and bruises marring the other woman's flawless olive skin.

"That why you sent your boys after me tonight? Keep me away from your little shindig? Yeah, they learnt their lesson real good" snarled Jane, "so alright, I'll play this your way, that's the way you want it?" Anger flooded every syllable as she stalked her way towards Crowe's feet. "You wanna keep the high and mighty folks happy old man, I get that," she said, pointing her gun in the mayor's direction without even deigning to profit him with her gaze, instead, her brown eyes that were currently filled with steel remained train on the slimy specimen still stood on the bar top, "well just you remember, this place wouldn't be worth shit without me and you know it. Now the way I figure it, you owe me. You owe my bigtime and if that don't work, well I'm sure as hell you wouldn't want a civic mayor bein' killed in your establishment, 'm I right Mister Crowe?" she asked with unerring politeness before firing a warning shot over Jenkins' shoulder, making the old man squeal as the bullet smashed through the termite-ridden wall panel behind him.

"Now, I suggest you take my five-hundred and you do somethin' real useful with it like run outta town and take your fancy pants best bud here with ya, 'cause y'see, I been hearin' reports," she said, now turning to Jenkins who quickly withered under Rizzoli's fiery stare, "I been hearin' what some of the women back in Phoenix have to say about you. Now sure, the word o' one whore ain't gonna matter too much but I been scarin' up a whole lotta folks who got somethin' to say about you Mister Mayor."

Jane stepped dangerously closer and closer, almost shoving Maura out of her way, making the blonde stumble over the stage steps but glanced up just in time to see the raven-haired outlaw press her trusty Colt into Jenkins' belly.

"Crowe, I suggest you tell this _patron_ where to go or I'll find you both a new home where the two of you can get real cosy."

Crowe thought for only a moment or two before his greed got the better of him;

"What about the five-hundred?"

Jane rolled her eyes.

"The five-hundred's yours on the condition that this piece of filth never sets foot in this neck of the woods again and Katie's mine…and she stays mine. Ain't no one else touches her but me. Y'understand?"

"Agreed" said Crowe quickly enough, "hell, $500's more'n any whore'll make for me in a lifetime! Fine, she's all yours Rizzoli."

Crowe watched on in dismay as Jenkins was practically rolled out of the bar by several burly customers. This could be bad but then he had been caught between a rock and a hard place. Local government were always helpful to have on-side should the need ever arise to grease a few palms and he had no doubt that the law would soon be paying him some very special attention now that Jane Rizzoli had revealed herself to someone as powerful as the Mayor of Phoenix but equally, pissing of Jane Rizzoli definitely carried more immediate consequences. Not only could she, herself, rain down a hellish wrath upon his head but every outlaw in the South-West would soon be out for his blood too. Casting one last look at Katie Beauclerc he just hoped that the damn girl was worth it all.

Jane reached down a hand to help the blonde to her feet from where she remained splayed on the stage steps, her skirts hiked all the way up to her garters providing a more than tantalising glimpse of creamy thigh but much to Maura's surprise, the outlaw merely turned her gaze politely until she had regained her feet and a little composure. Just as she was beginning to find her balance, however, she heard the taller woman mutter a quick _Sorry about this_ in her ear before she found herself roughly propelled up the wooden staircase with a firm hand to her gluteus maximus while Jane shouted a rather loud and uncharacteristically gruff, _get on up those stairs, woman! C'mon!_

The laughter of the maddening crowd followed them all the way up to the landing where Maura was grateful to finally find some quiet… _but then what?_

 **Well folks, I know that might not have been the turn of events you were quite expecting but Jane had to come to Maura's rescue, right? Not sure I'm 100% on the flow of this chapter but at least our girls are okay. Now that Maura's safe for the future could this be the chance our girls have been waiting for? Plus, let's face it, it is the Wild West where women really did have it tough. I think it was important for Maura to experience just a little of what he colleagues are being put through but without any permanent damage.**

 **Love and light all and thank you for reading!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello, hello!**

 **Wow! Thanks guys for all of your positive reviews, I'm so glad there is still a following for this story, that really means a lot, so I thought I'd return the favour by getting a nice quick update to you. I wasn't sure what reaction I'd get from putting our lovely Maura on the 'meat market' but it served its purpose and I'm happy you're all on-board. Also, don't worry about Crowe, if you're all finding him as despicable as I intend him to be then it's all to do good- he'll get his comeuppance.**

 **One last thing; to the** _ **religious**_ **reviewer who seems to think it's acceptable to use my story as a platform to preach at folk? FF don't seem have to gotten around to my request to have your 'message' removed but while you are more than entitled to your own beliefs please keep your judgemental claptrap away from my story and its readers. If you find homosexuality offensive, then can I make the rather logical suggestion that you do not deliberately go out of your way to seek out fanfiction which contains homosexual content? See how easy that was? Everyone happy!**

 **Now…onward!**

 **Chapter Eight**

Jane removed her hand from Maura's azure-silk-clad buttock as soon as they reached the relative sanctity of the landing, but the blonde's brief sigh of relief died in her throat the instant she turned to face her would-be rescuer, almost stumbling into the taller woman who had come to a stop mere inches behind. For a moment, Maura remained perfectly still, encapsulated in a strong yet deceptively gentle grasp, entranced by the lines and planes of Jane's marred face. Jane too seemed to give pause, marvelling at the other woman's perfect alabaster skin displaying just the slightest pink tinge of exertion but most of all a pair of rose tinted lips. Absently, she wondered if the blonde used rouge or if that vibrant shade was all Katie. She was not exactly an authority on such matters and truth-be-told, she would have been quite content to remain puzzling it over right there in that embrace for the rest of the night but the faint wisps of revelry wafting up from the bar below and the sound of not-too-distant laughter reminded her that they had not yet found the privacy both women probably needed to regather themselves;

"Uh, which, which one is yours?" she asked with a jerk of her head in the vague direction of the varied bedrooms along the hallway while she helped Maura regain her feet, dismayed a little when the other women appeared suddenly nervous; her skin which had been flush from the race up the staircase had paled to a deathly white.

Maura gulped in abrupt realisation of what Jane might be expecting of her. Then again, had not her body just been bought with a view to rescuing her from those wicked men? Did she now owe Jane her maidenhood?

"This one" she replied vaguely, leading Jane just a few doors down the corridor where trembling fingers fiddled with the handle, the pair of them tentatively stepping inside. As Maura picked her way further into the room through the, towards the one hopeful shaft of bright light provided by the moon she turned, starting at the sound of Jane thudding the door shut and locking it with a snap. Suddenly the clamour of the outside world was a distant memory, the only sound the heavy breaths that lay thick in the air between them. Maura could just barely make out Jane's form in the darkness but as she glanced around the room it became clear to her that this had all been planned from the start. The second Crowe had made the decision to employ her talents at _The Dirty Bandit_ he knew he could use her to attract and entertain a new brand of wealthy clients. _That_ was why he had given her this, the largest room in the bordello with its luscious, richly laden bed and rich drapery everywhere. She even had fresh flowers on the dresser and god-only-knew where they were to be found in the middle of the Arizona desert!

Strangely, the other woman had not yet made a move towards her and Maura wasn't sure whether to be thankful or concerned;

"Jane?" she tried, cautiously.

Slowly, Jane began to ease forward through the gloom and Maura noticed that she was fiddling a lot with her hands;

"Jane?" she tried again.

Finally, after what had felt like hours rather than moments, Jane reached her, lingering just on the edge of the narrow beams of light pouring through the window so that her face remained in shadow;

"Kate, I…I don't want you to be scared of me, please?"

For the first time since Maura had met this dashing stranger who looked as to have come to life from some fantastical story she might have read as a child, there seemed a tremor in that unshakeable confidence that Jane had always displayed. _Is she as nervous as I am?_

"Katie, I ain't brung you up here for _that_ " she continued.

"Brought" said Maura before she could stop the work falling from her lips.

"Huh?" replied Jane, confused.

Maura bit her lip in an effort to keep an unwilling smile at bay;

"You didn't _bring_ me up here or if you insist; you _ain't brought_ me up here."

"Well, yeah, that's what I said ain't it? I ain't brung ya up here for that" said Jane again more firmly.

"Yes Jane" said Maura tolerantly, deciding to believe that in the darkness Jane might have been displaying the most adorable pout. She had no idea what on Earth would make her think such a thing but she had to clamp down on the incredibly inappropriate urge to giggle.

"Anyway, umm, I uh…I don't want you to think that I think of you _that_ way" continued Jane, seemingly oblivious to Maura's plight.

"Oh," said Maura, surprised to find that she felt rather disappointed. Jane didn't find her attractive enough to…?

"I don't mean…well, it's not…you're a beautiful lady Kate but that's just it. You're a _lady._ An' I don't know what you're doing here an' all and that's your business but I know you just no whore. I'm sorry, I'm messin' this up real good, aren't I?" she said, shoving her hands deep into her Levi's pockets.

"No Jane, you're not. Not at all" replied Maura with genuine warmth this time, "I think I understand what you are trying to tell me."

"I just couldn't think of any other way to fix it. I didn't mean to…y'know, _buy_ ya. That's what I mean by, I don't want you to be afraid of me Katie. I just wanna make sure you're safe, that's all."

The almost pleading note on Jane's softened intonations made something in Maura break and before she realised what she was doing she found herself stepping forward into Jane's surprised but willing embrace. Something about the stresses of not only the evening but of the entire operation and at last finding a such a solid safe haven forced weeks of unshed and buried tears to force their way down her cheeks as she clung tightly to the brunette's doeskin waistcoat. The fact that she was essentially crying into the arms of her quarry was not lost on her but it was just all too confusing, trying to reconcile the evil deeds of the woman she had read about in official reports and news clipping with the kind, gentle and protective soul that now held her close to her breast. The outlaw's scent was strange to her nostrils, a combination of midnight sweat and horses with something so uniquely _Jane_. It was not unpleasant at all and in fact, felt oddly comforting. _Something like coming home,_ she mulled.

When the tears began to subside and Maura could breathe again without hiccupping, she careful ease back a little, her fingers touching at the damp spot just above the other woman's breastbone where her face had rest;

"Your hurt" she said curiously, the extent of Jane's injuries only now sinking in as she tentatively traced the marks left behind by Crowe's goons.

"Aw, just a few scrapes is all, nothin' much" she shrugged in reply.

"Jane, please" said Maura more firmly, "please let me take care of you." Those same tones that Jane had used on Maura minutes before had much the same effect and without any more fuss, Jane allowed the smaller woman to lead her over sit to the plush bed.

Maura immediately began fussing about the room, lighting candles and gathering supplies. She found a stray piece of cloth that looked relatively clean then eschewed in favour of tearing a strip of expensive silk from her dress.

"Katie, no!" cried Jane when she spotted what Maura was doing to what must have been precious garments.

"Too late!" said Maura as she gleefully stripped more and more fabric from her skirts, "I don't have anything else clean enough to cleanse those wounds."

Jane did her best to find a comfortable position on the mattress but a sharp pain in her ribcage was making it difficult, eventually opting to just sit upright on the edge of the bed. She stayed put for several minutes contemplating the state of her tan, leather boots and whether or not she would buy a new pair before or wait until after these ones had fallen apart when Maura inserted herself between her knees, kneeling on the floor.

"Uh, Katie, what are you doing?" asked Jane, her voice shaking with a fresh round of nerves and another new decidedly earthier sensation.

"Well, Jane, I need to be able to reach those cuts and check you over and I need you to be as comfortable as possible while I do so" said Maura blandly.

"But Katie, this isn't that comfortable" said Jane, her breath hitching as Maura placed a hand on her knee.

"Why did you sit that way then?" asked Maura, confused.

At this point Jane wasn't sure if the other woman was just being deliberately obtuse or if she really had no idea what she was doing to her but at that moment it was taking all of her effort and sheer willpower not to twist her fingers through those satin blonde locks and urge the blonde's head lower;

"Kate, just, please, ain't there any other way we can get this done?" she asked with the tiniest tinge of desperation creeping in.

"Of course, Jane, whatever way you are the most comfortable, I will simply work around you." Replied Maura good-naturedly, taking the first cloth and dipping it in some cold water she had retrieved in a bowl from the large vanity unit that sat in the opposite corner of the room.

Eventually they manage to arrange themselves so that Jane had one of her long legs stretched out in front of her on the bed with the other hanging off to the side so that Maura could perch between them.

Conversation ebbed away to leave a contented silence while Maura began to dab at Jane's wounds, cleaning away the dirt and grime of desert roads and congealed blood to leave the neat slices that lay hidden beneath.

A fresh, cool cloth was brought next to soothe the angry and rapidly blackening bruises along Jane's cheek and eye orbit. It was a balm to the outlaw's spirit and she raised a hand to the blonde's fingers, encasing them tenderly within her own grasp, her lips quirking suspiciously when she caught Maura mumbling under her breath; _Oh, the Maxilla's connected to the Zygomatic, the Zygomatic's connected to the Lacrimal…_

Eventually Jane let out a chuckle and Maura gave an abashed smile. Jane thought her utterly captivating.

"Y'know you're really good at this" said Jane though the way she enunciated the words it sounded more question than statement. In truth, Jane _did_ have several questions for the blonde. Why she had suddenly blown into town as she had and gone to great lengths to conceal her history. Then there was the fact that she frequented Chinese Chang's medicine shop after which Jane would sometimes spot her scurrying off to a dilapidated barn on the outskirts of town. Hardly the usual comings and goings of a brothel-dweller, even if this woman was something a little different than the rest of the girls that worked there but she also knew that before she could go digging for answers she would have to gain her trust.

"Well my father was a doctor" said Maura simply, breaking Jane fro her contemplation.

"Was?" ventured Jane quietly.

"He passed away some time ago" replied Maura, "now, does anything else hurt?" she asked resolutely.

"Uh, no, I think I'm good from here, thanks" but as she tried to lift herself from the bed Jane let out a groan before she could stop it.

"Jane!" Maura cried sharply, her arms outstretched, already trying to coax the other woman back down again.

"I'm fine Katie, really" Jane hissed.

"Sit!" said Maura firmly and for a second Jane could only look at her aghast before letting out a mighty belly laugh.

"By god, Miss Katie's got herself a feisty side, huh?" she chuckled, "just where in the heck was that earlier?"

Maura looked down at the bedclothes, turning a fold of material over between her fingers.

"Hey, I'm sorry…" said Jane soothingly, coming back to her original position on the mattress, "I wasn't thinkin'. Guess that was tough on ya tonight. Probably not used to bein' treated so ill by so-called gentlemen."

Maura shook her head and swallowed hard. The truth was, the incident with Crowe and Jenkins had hit her harder than she wanted to admit. She had already found herself questioning at various times over the previous weeks whether or not she was tough enough to brave out this assignment but the question was; was she now in too deep as well as over her head. Jane, for her part, sensed the shift in blonde's mood, certainly brought about by her own doing.

"Maura, I know I said I didn't want anything from ya but looks like we're gonna be spendin' a lotta time together, least until I know you're safe but uh, I was wonderin', in that case if you would do me the honour of keepin' me company? Talkin' like, I mean" said Jane, dipping her head to catch Maura's eye.

Maura lifted her gaze, searching through the golden flecks in Jane's eyes for any sign of deceit but instead all she found was the earnest sincerity of someone who, for whatever reason wanted to see her safe and happy.

"Take off your shirt Jane, let me see those ribs…"

 **Oh, I'm a rotter leaving it there aren't I?**

 **Haha!**

 **To those who wondered if this was where Jane and Maura were going to 'get it on' I apologise but we need to give our ladies the chance to get closer first I think.**

 **Love to you all and a pleasant evening!**


End file.
